Slow Down the Song
by asphaltcowgrrl
Summary: Wes is harboring a secret crush. When he lets something slip during a drunken conversation, Travis becomes determined to find out just who the crush is. Spawned from a round of bingo on LiveJournal. Chapter titles are the lyric prompts I was given.
1. Piano Man

_Yes, they're sharing a drink they call loneliness__  
__But it's better than drinkin' alone_

_(Piano Man – Billy Joel)_

He leaned against the black Chrysler and watched his partner flirt and make eyes at the runner from the law office. This was the reason Wes preferred all couriers leave their packages at the security desk. It gave Travis less to work with. Most days, that is. As luck would have it, they ran into the runner on their way out of the office for lunch.

"Either ask her out or say goodbye and get it over with, Marks," he yelled finally. His rumbling stomach prompted the aggravated response, or so he told himself. "I'm starving."

Travis looked up at him briefly, probably rolling his eyes if he knew his partner. "Keep your pants on," he called back, annoyance clear in his voice.

"Yeah, it's all I do these days," he muttered, grimacing at how those words sounded even to himself. Sad. Pathetic. Desperate. _You are not attracted to that asshole, _he reminded his lonely heart. _And you're definitely not jealous of _her. Now, if he could only learn to believe it, he'd be golden. Another glance his partner's way showed he was finally leaving the buxom blonde behind and making his way over. "About time," he grumped.

"Man, cut me some slack. Did you see that girl? She was hoooooot," Travis sang.

Wes gave him a mental eye roll. "If you say so, Travis."

Travis tossed a glance back over his shoulder and caught the girl waving. "Man, how can you _not_ say so? Did you even look at her?"

He tried so hard not to sound exasperated. They had this conversation on a regular basis and still Travis hadn't caught on. If he were into women – which, for the record, he was not – he'd not settle for something like that. Wes would definitely strive for a higher quality date. "She's not my type," he said instead.

Looking over at the still waving figure, Travis had to ask. "You say that every time, no matter the woman. What exactly is your type, Wes?"

_Tall, dark-skinned, blue-eyed, loudmouthed. _He almost smiled at that because the one trait that all his past crushes had had in common was the thing he thought he despised the most – a big mouth. In the interest of getting lunch as soon as possible, he decided to go with the safe answer. "Something more like Alex. Smart. Classy. Sophisticated."

_And male_. But he kept that last part to himself. He hadn't realized until it was too late that he hadn't ever really been attracted to his ex-wife. They'd been married for almost a year when he finally understood his colossal mistake. Life would have been so much easier if he'd never gotten married. On the plus side, they'd been too busy to have children which left one less worry to deal with in the end.

Travis made a disbelieving sound. "Sophisticated? Because that worked for you the first time around."

He wasn't sure if Travis was teasing or being honest. Either way, he was right on the money which burned his ass more than he wanted to admit. "Yes, sophisticated. I like a woman I can take to the symphony or to a museum. Someone who might appreciate a little culture, unlike you."

"Me?" Travis grinned, climbing into the passenger seat of Wes' car. "You want to take me to the symphony? Wesley Mitchell, you are a sly dog, coming on to me like that."

Wes slapped a hand over his face half in frustration and half to hide the embarrassed blush tinting his cheeks. He _had _thought to ask Travis the last time he'd had tickets but chickened out at the last minute, assuming he'd only get laughed at in return. "I just told you I prefer someone more sophisticated, Marks. So why the hell would I hit on you?"

In response, Travis treated Wes to one of those smiles that had made him fall in the first place. All white teeth and full, kissable lips, it caused a flutter within Wes' chest, in spite of all the frustrations the man holding the smile was causing him. Shoving down the inevitable betrayal of his emotions, Wes looked at Travis, waiting.

Travis shrugged. "Because I'm me?"

_Because you're you._ Score one more point for Travis Marks. Damn him to hell. Because he was right.

"Hey man," Travis said, stopping him before he could get into his car. "No hard feelings about earlier, right?"

It took a minute for Wes to put the ambiguous sentence into context. When he did, he bit his bottom lip, thinking how to respond. "No, Marks. No hard feelings. Just try to keep it in your pants at work next time."

"Deal," he said, a mischievous grin spreading across those luscious lips. "Unless it's just you and me next time."

He was gone before Wes could formulate a proper rebuttal, straddling his motorcycle and pulling out of the parking lot. It was official: Travis Marks was going to be the death of him.

"Evening, detective." The bartender greeted him like he was an old friend and, with as long as he'd been living in this hotel, they might as well be just that. "The usual?"

Wes nodded. "Please." He waited in silence while the bartender poured him two fingers of Scotch on the rocks. It was placed before him on a slip of a napkin moments later.

"Anything else," he asked, glancing down the bar at another patron signaling for his attention.

"No, thanks," Wes said. "Wait, actually – do you mind if I play the piano? It sits there every night and no one ever touches it. Seems like a shame to me."

The bartender, whose name was Andy he suddenly remembered, looked towards the piano and nodded. "There's a guy who comes in on Saturday nights to sing and play. I don't see what it'd hurt. Knock yourself out."

"Thanks," Wes said, watching the bartender walk away.

He took his drink and napkin in hand and moved over to the piano bench. Setting his drink on top, he opened the keyboard cover and toyed with the keys. What it was about Travis that brought the music out of him, he wasn't sure. All he knew was after watching his partner flirt all day with anything having breasts, he needed some sort of release and this was his only option.

It had been years since he'd played, long before his marriage had started to fall apart. But his fingers remembered and the rest of him fell into line shortly after. He played an old jazz piece that his mother had always loved, fingers flying along the keys like he'd never stopped. His body felt the rhythm and his soul felt free. Wes allowed his eyes to drift closed as he neared the end of the piece. Fingers hovering over the ivories, he allowed the music to fade before opening his eyes.

To find a woman standing before him.

"That was lovely," she said. "Do you know _Piano Man_ by any chance?

Her smile was infectious, she'd really enjoyed his playing and that buoyed his spirits. Classic rock really wasn't his style but what kind of pianist would he be if he didn't know at least that one old standard? "Of course I know it. Would you like to hear it?"

She nodded and he began to play. He wasn't quite halfway into the first chorus when he heard her singing along beside him. Her voice was light and fresh and full of the tumultuous emotions he was feeling tonight.

She sang:

_He said, "Son, can you play me a memory_

_I'm not really sure how it goes_

_But it's sad and it's sweet and I knew it complete_

_When I wore a younger man's clothes."_

He risked a glance up at her to find her eyes closed as his had been, face full of grief and loss. Wes wasn't sure of her story but he was certain that he'd found himself a kindred spirit tonight. Someone who might just understand what he was dealing with. On a whim, he asked, "Can I buy you a drink?"

She stared at him a moment, deciding whether to accept or flee. "I'm not sure. I'm not really ready…"

"It's okay," he assured her. "No strings here, just a drink and some mindless chatter, I promise."

She looked at him for a little longer, still unsure. Her intense scrutiny was beginning to make him feel a tad uncomfortable.

"I'm not actually interested in women either, if that helps any."

A burst of laughter escaped her. "I'm sorry, that wasn't funny but… well, I wasn't exactly expecting that kind of confession either. So yes, let's go have that drink."

Wes stood, leading her to a table in the corner and signaled for the bartender. Once she had her Shiraz and he had a fresh Scotch, things were easier. The words flowed unstoppable out of the both of them, forming a river of regret, sadness, and things left unsaid. In that dark corner of the bar, they became a mini support system for each other, lifting and buoying and simply being.

In the end, they'd decided that before she could ever move on, she had to face the truth of what her ex-boyfriend had put her through. Take the hurt out, look it over, and accept it. That it'd happened and that she wouldn't ever let it happen to her again. Wear that emotional scar like a badge of honor and cease to let it have control over her any longer.

For Wes, they had concluded that acceptance of his feelings was the first step to happiness. As long as he continued to deny how he felt, he would live in misery and frustration. Not that he believed telling Marks any of this would change a damn thing, but at least he'd have put it out there and taken that chance. If Travis rejected him, then so be it. He would deal with that when the time came.

Later, Wes sat on the edge of his bed, phone open to his messaging program. He stared at Travis' face, that smile burning a hole inside him that the Scotch couldn't ever touch. Thinking now would be a good time, while he was sleeping, to tell him all that he wanted to say, but not knowing how or where to begin. Sighing, Wes closed the text application and locked his phone.

_Not tonight_, he told himself. _Give yourself some time, think about it, text him tomorrow. Or Thursday._

Or never.

He was hopeless, and that was the only thing he was willing to accept right now. Standing, he moved to the minibar and poured himself another finger of Scotch. Downing it quickly, he contemplated another, but he'd had three in the bar and another just now. Four was more than he ever had and five was excessive beyond compare. He looked back at the bottle, contemplating.

His phone rang.

It was quarter past two in the morning and Travis knew better, that when the phone was picked up on the other end, he was about to get an ear chewing he wasn't soon going to forget. _But_. But there had been something bothering Wes all afternoon and he'd be damned if he could figure it out. And that was making him crazy because usually Wes was pretty easy to figure out. If he was being a bitch, it was because Travis had a) screwed up, b) mouthed off, or c) screwed up _and _mouthed off.

Today, however, he'd done neither. Well, he'd mouthed off _a little_, but that was his thing. He harassed Wes and Wes put him in his place for it. It was how they communicated. Maybe it was a bit dysfunctional but it worked for them.

"Hello," Wes drawled into the phone.

Travis pulled his cell back from his head and stared at it for a moment, double checking to make sure he'd gotten the right number. "Wes man, that you? You sound… drunk."

"Me? Drunk?" He snorted, loudly. "I'd never be drunk. On call twenty-four-seven, right?"

Frowning into the phone, Travis agreed. "Right. You still sound a bit… off, man. You sure you're okay?"

"I'm finnnnne," he drew out. "You're the one calling in the middle of the night. I think _you_ might be the drunken one."

Was that a slight slur he was hearing in Wes' words? Travis shook the thought off. Wes was right, he'd never get _drunk _drunk when he knew they could be called in at any time to visit a dead body or other assorted crime scene. "No, I'm painfully sober right now, baby."

"Baby? Naw, I'm not your baby, don't think I'll ever be your baby either."

He might be crazy, but Wes was definitely drunk because that wistful tone never touched his voice unless he'd had a few. Not that Travis had had much experience with an inebriated Wes, of course not, Wes had more self-control than that. Aside from the night his divorce had become final, Travis had seen him like this only one other time. So what was up with him tonight? "No, you're not my baby, Wes."

"Why not?" It was almost a whimper.

Travis laughed at the absurdity of the idea. "Why? Because I'm not even close to your type. I don't even know what your type is, Wes, but I'm sure it's not me."

"Why do you say that," he asked, curiosity overriding whatever had been in his voice a minute ago.

"I don't know, but that laundry list of faults you keep with my name at the top might be a good indicator."

"I'm sorry, Travis," Wes whispered. "I never meant to make you feel inferior."

"You didn't. Wes, you sure you're okay? You sound, well, awful." Travis massaged the back of his neck with his free hand, thinking.

Wes sighed, his breath rustling across the phone line. "I'm lonely, Travis. And maybe, just a tiny bit drunk, too."

A snorted bit of laughter escaped him before he could stop it. "I knew it! You were out drinking without me," Travis kidded.

"And playing the piano," he confessed. "I even met a girl, Travis."

"So why are you lonely if you met a girl? And where did you find a piano?"

"In the hotel bar," he said as if it made perfect sense. To which it did, if you took the time to think about it. But it was much too early – or late – for any kind of actual thinking as far as Travis was concerned. "Okay, and the girl? What about her?"

He could imagine Wes shrugging in the silence. "As nice as she was, she definitely wasn't my type."

"Why not?" Travis almost added that at this point, beggars couldn't be choosers, but he didn't want to insult his friend. Wes, after all, was a good looking man who had quite the following in the precinct. More than one female had asked Travis if his partner was seeing anyone lately. "You don't have to jump in bed with her or anything, but make a friend for god's sake."

"I don't like girls, Travis."

_What?_ "Woah. Wait. Since when don't you like girls? What about Alex?" Where the hell was all of this coming from?

"Alex was a mistake," he said, simply. "I didn't realize until after we married that she wasn't… what I was looking for."

"But you made it work." He was dumbstruck because they'd made it work for a long time, too. Always the picture of happiness until she decided she didn't want to be married to a cop any longer and gave him the proverbial boot.

"That's because she didn't know. Still doesn't know, actually. No one knows." The last part was barely audible and Travis wasn't sure he'd even heard the words.

_No one knows but me_, he corrected silently. "Don't worry, I won't let anyone know, I promise. Now, get some sleep and I'll see you in a few hours. Okay, baby?"

"Yeah, okay," he acquiesced. "Night, Travis and thanks."

"Anytime. It's what partners are for, right? _And to keep your secrets, too_, he supposed.

"Right," Wes agreed. "That's what partners do."

Wes ended the call and left Travis sitting in bed, wondering what the hell had just happened. _My partner just drunkenly came out to me… and I doubt he'll even remember it in the morning. Maybe that's for the best in the end. _

The biggest question however, was _why_?

Wes woke up, face down in his pillow, head pounding. Bits and pieces of the night before darted through his brain, searing him with his idiocy. Had he really had three glasses of Scotch in the bar last night? Rubbing his fingers against his eyes, he sighed, not wanting to face the day. A knock on his door caused him to look up.

"Who the hell could possibly be at the door?" Bleary-eyed and grouchy, he hitched his pajama pants up over his hips and shuffled to the door. He opened his mouth to verbally abuse whoever it might be when he saw Travis standing on the other side of the open doorway. "Travis?"

"It's me, blondie," he announced, pushing his way inside the hotel room, the scent of fresh coffee wafting behind him. "I thought you might need a pick me up after last night."

"Last… night?" Wes closed the door and followed his partner into the kitchenette area. "What do you – _how _do you know about last night?"

Travis tilted his head and studied him for a moment. "You don't remember, do you? Huh, you must've been a lot drunker than you admitted to, Mitchell. I called you last night."

_He did? When?_ "How badly did I embarrass myself?" It wasn't exactly what he wanted to ask – no, that was more along the lines of _please tell me I didn't profess my undying love for you_ – but it was all he could spit out around the lump in his throat.

Those blue eyes watched him like they could see into the depths of his soul before pulling away and focusing on the bag he'd brought in with him. "Not so bad as you might think, Wes. Didn't confess to anything I didn't already know. Or suspect." He tossed him a wink and dug around in the bag for a bit.

_Holy Christ on a cracker. Had he…? No, he couldn't have because if Travis knew how he felt, he'd be rubbing it in, reminding him that no one could resist his charm. So, what did he confess to?_

"Here," Travis said again, poking his arm with a paper wrapped lump of something. "Eat. And don't give me any crap about how unhealthy it is, either. It'll be the best thing for your hangover, trust me."

Cautiously, Wes unwrapped the food and revealed an English muffin topped with sausage, egg and cheese. His stomach rolled but his mouth watered at the sight. "If I puke, I'm aiming towards you," he warned.

"Bring it on, baby," he laughed. Unwrapping his own sandwich, he held it up in a mock toast before taking a bite. "To drunken nights."

"To chasing this headache away," Wes replied.

"That, too," Travis commiserated. "Next time, call me. We can get wasted together."

_Oh, that'd be lovely,_ he thought. _Then I could spill my guts and embarrass myself even more than I already have. 'Travis, I love you. Travis, kiss me. Travis…'_ He shook his head, forcing the thoughts away before they could go too far.

"You okay man? You look flushed." Travis turned Wes' face towards him, giving his partner a good once-over.

Wes pulled out of his grip gently, the warm spots left from the tips of his fingers burning into his skin. "I'm fine," he lied. "And oddly enough, this tastes amazing. Got another in that bag?"

The smile that could weaken the knees of the most steadfast man was aimed in his direction. "You'd better believe it, baby. I got six, just in case. And coffee." He handed Wes another sandwich and pointed to a cardboard cup. "Drink up."

Travis watched Wes devour his second sandwich while sipping on his coffee. He hadn't been sure if coming by would be a good thing or only cause more trouble, but for once, it looked like he'd made the right decision. Smiling behind his sandwich, he wondered what other secrets Wes was harboring in that little blond head of his.

_Only time will tell_, he reminded himself, making a mental note to get the boy out for a few beers as soon as possible.


	2. Too Much in Love to Care

_If you were smart, you would keep on walking__  
__Out of my life as fast as you can__  
__I'm not the one you should pin your hopes on__  
__You're falling for the wrong kind of man_

_(Too Much in Love to Care - Sarah Brightman)_

"You look much better today," Travis said when Wes appeared at his desk two days after _the incident_. "Not so pale any longer."

"Longest fucking hangover of my life," Wes muttered. "But thanks. I am feeling better finally."

"Good. So, what's first on the agenda this morning? Interviewing that witness, maybe?" Travis watched Wes as his eyes landed on everything around him but his face.

"No, we need to go down and see Jonelle, she sent me a text as I got here. I think she's got something for us."

Nodding, Travis stood. "Sounds good to me, let's go."

Jonelle indeed had something for them, an item that changed the course of their investigation and cracked the case wide open. Travis, in his exuberance, threatened to kiss her and if she hadn't held up the nearest scalpel, he might have done so. Armed with this new bit of information, the two detectives set out to make their collar. Three hours later, after fulfilling his threat and having kissed Jonelle (and getting clobbered for his effort), Travis stood with his partner in front of the precinct, thinking of parting ways for the night.

"You going home, Wes?" Travis asked.

Wes shrugged, looking out across the lot, trying to remember where he'd put his car when they'd returned to the station. "Yeah, nowhere else for me to go, is there?" Wincing at how that sounded, he started to apologize but was stopped before he could start.

"You can come have a drink with me," Travis suggested.

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea," he said, making a face. "You remember what happened last time."

"Yeah, but last time you didn't have me along to keep you sober, either." Travis graced him with a brilliant grin. "Besides, I'll limit you to beer only, no fancy Scotch tonight."

He made another face. "I can't stand beer, but hanging out for a bit sounds better than going home alone."

"It always does," Travis agreed. "Meet you at the usual spot in twenty, will that work?"

He quickly calculated how long it would take him to get back to the hotel, change, and return to the bar. "Make it thirty and you're on."

"Deal. See you in thirty, Mitchell, and don't you dare be late. I don't like being stood up on my dates." Travis waved and headed for where he'd left his motorcycle.

Wes groaned inwardly. The thought of Travis actually asking him on a date – and taking it seriously – was more than he could handle. Just the thought of his teasing had his imagination running away from him and his cock hardening in his pants. "Just what I don't need," he grumbled, adjusting himself to ease the pressure a bit, "is a drink with Marks and the hard on from hell to top it off."

"Got to admit, Marks, I'm shocked you didn't already have plans for tonight," Wes said, almost fearing Travis' answer.

Travis shrugged, trying for casual and failing. "All my honeys were busy tonight."

Wes grinned, glass of Scotch halfway to his mouth. "You got cancelled on, didn't you?"

With a glare, Travis said, "Maybe… maybe not. And I let you have your damn Scotch so you'd better be nice to me."

"Okay, okay, you made your point. I won't tease, I swear."

"Better not," he joked, tipping his bottle back and emptying it down his throat. "I could use another, what about you?"

He hesitated. Getting drunk hadn't ever been his thing but lately it'd become more appealing. The more time he spent around Travis, listening to stories of his sexual escapades, and the more he came to understand he'd never be part of one of those stories, the more alluring the sirens call of the bar had become.

Travis misread his silence. "Ah, I bet you're still stuck on the other night, aren't you?" He leaned in closer and whispered near Wes' ear, "I won't let you get wasted, I promise."

Travis lied about keeping him sober. He hadn't intended on letting things get this far out of hand either – they both had to work the next day, after all. But once Wes started feeling his Scotch, he began to open up and Travis would be damned if he let the boy go before he learned a little more about the conservative Wesley Mitchell.

"So, you said you were stood up earlier," Wes ventured.

Travis nodded, "Pretty much. Said she had to wash her hair or some shit. Classic blow-off." He took a hit off his beer and grimaced. "Women are the worst. They think men lie, but I'm telling you, they'll tell you whatever they think you want to hear just to get what they want. Not all of them, of course," he clarified, "but too many of them."

"Sounds like you pick the good ones," he joked, sarcasm evident in his words.

Travis snorted. "Something like that. What about you? Having any luck these days? I know moving on after Alex has been rough for you."

Shrugging, Wes looked out across the bar before turning his attention back to Travis. "Not really but… well, I kind of have my eye on someone."

_Ah, now this was good._ "And?" His eyebrows lifted to the ceiling in mock surprise.

"And... I can't ask hi – er, _them_ out quite yet."

He swore there was a hint of pink rising to his cheeks. "Why they hell not? They married or some shit?"

Wes shook his head. "Not quite but still it's complicated."

_Curious_. "The mystery person works with us, don't they?" He was careful to use gender neutral pronouns so that Wes didn't feel the need to lie about _her_. Also, he was afraid he'd slip up and Wes would know that he knew.

"Maybe," he evaded, not really fooling anyone.

"You little dawg," he crowed. "And after all the shit you've given me about this very thing, too!"

"This is different," he protested. "I haven't slept with every woman in the building like you have!"

"I haven't either," Travis defended. "There are a few still holding out on me."

"Ooooh," Wes laughed. "I'm impressed that someone hasn't fallen for that patented Marks charm yet."

"Give it time," he said. "Ultimately they all fall. Female, male, doesn't matter." He gave Wes a flirty wink to make his point. "Even you will, eventually."

Wes looked up at that, eyes wide. "Men, too? I'd have never pegged you for…"

Travis gave a small smile as his voice trailed off. "For what? Being bisexual?" He tried for a casual shrug, not convinced he'd pulled it off. "I'm an equal opportunity lover, man. If you're interested in me, chances are, I'll be interested in you. All ya gotta do is be real with me, know what I'm saying?"

Nodding, Wes said, "Yeah, I do. How many boyfriends have you had?"

_Little shit's curious tonight, isn't he?_ "Never had a boyfriend," he confessed. "But I have had three or four male lovers." He was pretty sure he could hear Wes trying to swallow his tongue from across the table. "What about you?"

The mouthful of Scotch he'd just imbibed sprayed from his mouth, splattering Travis' hands and forearms. "What?" Wes wiped his mouth with a napkin and grimaced when he noticed the mess he'd made of Travis. "Sorry about that, you caught me off guard."

"No problem," Travis grinned, taking the napkin from Wes' trembling hand and began to clean the sprayed alcohol from his skin. "So, fess up. Ever have a boyfriend, Mitchell? What about a one-time fling?"

He was being mean and tormenting his partner, but he'd had just enough booze to cease caring. Besides, it was fun to poke the caged Wes.

"No," he insisted, "never. Not even once. My parents would not have been _pleased_ if something like that had happened, and that's an understatement if I've ever made one. Experimenting or not, it would not have had a happy ending."

He'd figured as much. Wes' parents, the one time he'd met them, came off as good people, but not very forward thinking. That Wes was working with a non-white partner was enough to give them pause. Not that they'd ever say so to his face, they were much too well behaved for any of that nonsense, but he could read it on their faces. It explained a lot about why Mitchell was such a tight ass, however.

"I get that," he sympathized. "Have you ever been tempted?" He watched Wes intently now, curious if his secret caused him any discomfort outside the long arm of his father's law. He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. Travis could tell he'd thrown the boy a curveball and he was swinging and missing.

"I – I'm not sure," he finally said. Wes picked up his glass, finished off what remained and motioned for another.

"How can you not be sure? Either you were tempted by some sexy man – me, for example – or you weren't. Doesn't mean you acted on it, asked him out, kissed him, whatever. Just means he made you… feel something."

Some strange emotion passed across his partner's face before he responded. "No, Marks, can't say I've ever been tempted. Not even by you."

_Liar. _"So, if some gorgeous man – "

" – like you – "

" – like me – came in here right now, flirted with you and asked to buy you a drink, you wouldn't even give it a second thought?"

"Depends," he said after careful consideration.

"On what?" Travis was enjoying the banter but not half as much as he was enjoying watching his partner loosen up and give as good as he got for a change.

"On whether such a man was even a tenth as charming as you are." Wes fluttered his eyelashes playfully.

"Baby, there ain't no man a tenth as charming as I am," Travis informed him.

"I've gotta admit," Wes said, leaning forward, placing his arms on the table in front of him, "that when you call me _baby_, I am _tempted_."

"Now see, that's something we can work with, baby."

He'd done it again. And this time, he'd allowed Marks to do it to him.

Wait, he didn't mean he'd let Travis do _that_ to him, no matter how appealing the idea was. No, he'd let Travis lure him into a bar and get himself drunk. Again. Needless to say, Wes was not just disappointed in his lack of self-control, but more embarrassed by what he couldn't remember. What had he said? Done? Had he given Travis any indication of what he really felt? God, he hoped he hadn't. Not that he was embarrassed by his attraction to his partner, quite the opposite. Even if he was a loudmouth without a filter, Travis was also a handsome, charming man who just happened to be one hell of a detective to boot. Where was the shame in admiring someone like that?

Oh, right. When he's your _partner_. That definitely complicated things, that and the fact Travis wasn't interested in men. Or was he? Some faint bit of conversation from the night before flitted through his memory. _'I'm an equal opportunity lover, man.'_ No. He was imagining things, Travis wouldn't ever…

"Enough, Mitchell," he growled to the empty hotel room. "You'll make yourself nuts if you keep this up. Get showered, get dressed, and get the hell to work."

Easier said than done. He hadn't imbibed so much alcohol since the week he'd turned twenty-one and his body was letting him know at every turn that he wasn't exactly twenty-one any longer. It took twenty minutes just to get into the shower, and then he never wanted to leave. The hot water washed away everything but the headache.

Wes dried his hair and caught sight of himself in the mirror. Aside from a pair of dark circles under his eyes, he looked better than he felt. Maybe he could keep this hangover from Travis if he tried hard enough.

No such luck.

"Soooo," Travis drawled, slinging an arm across Wes' shoulders later that morning. "how you feeling, baby? You looked a little worse for wear when you left last night."

"Yeah, about that," Wes said, pulling away from Travis' playful embrace. "You made me a promise, remember?"

"What promise I –" It dawned on him then that he _had_ made Wes a promise. A promise not to let him get trashed a second time this week. And he'd broken that promise into itty bitty pieces. "Shit, you're right, Wes. I screwed up."

"Yeah, you did, and I want to die this morning. Thank you very much." He started to walk away, stopped, and turned back. "Not that this is completely your fault, I am an adult, but you promised me. And I trusted you."

Something very akin to hurt crossed Wes' expression right then and it confused Travis. He had screwed up, but usually that just pissed Mitchell off. Why was he so upset? "I said I was sorry. Can we fight about this later after we find out what new disaster has landed on our desks?"

Wes glared at him for a minute longer before blowing out an angry breath. "Fine, but this isn't over. I'm mad at you.

"I know," Travis sighed, following Wes into the robbery homicide division. "And you have every right to be. But you were enjoying yourself so much and we never just _talk_ like that – like real people having a conversation, you know?"

The expression on Wes' face softened a bit at that. "Yeah, I do know. We're either fighting like we hate each other or strictly talking business. I guess I can't blame you. You can be good company. When you try."

Travis' grin split his face. "Same to you, blondie. You're actually kinda interesting."

The smile that lit his partner's face erased any lingering trace of hangover. Wes' eyes sparkled at the semi-compliment and a faint flush colored his always-pale cheeks. "Uh, thanks, Travis," he stumbled out.

"Anytime," he responded before adding, "anytime I'm in trouble that is."

Giving him a shove, Wes growled, "You are such a _jerk_, Marks. Gah!"

Travis laughed loudly, watching the detective storm off towards his desk. Really, he made it too easy to tease him sometimes. Although Travis knew he should back off, especially this morning knowing he was hung over, he found himself unable to do so. There was something about pushing Wes' buttons that gave him a thrill. "Weeeeees," he called playfully, "wait for me, baby! 

Thankfully, Wes had calmed down as the day went on and fell back into his old routine. Aside from the fact he wouldn't meet Travis' eyes, his partner felt like things were back to normal. This made him happy. He hated it when Wes was angry with him, even more so when he knew it was his fault.

"You want some lunch?"

Travis looked up from the file in front of him and nodded. "Yeah, I'm starving. What sounds good to you?"

Wes fiddled with his computer mouse for a moment, avoiding Travis' eyes for the fiftieth time that morning. "I don't care, whatever you're craving today works for me.

That was odd. Wes had a strict I-don't-eat-anything-Marks-likes policy in effect. "You sure? 'Cause I was going to suggest some burgers and fries."

Shrugging, Wes tried to pretend like it was okay. "Yeah, that's fine, Marks. Where from?"

He could see the blond was flat out lying now and desperately trying to hide it. _Why? _And why now, especially since he'd never hesitated to tell him to try again before. "There's a place two blocks over on the corner."

"Dylan's or something like that?" Wes raised his eyes and met Travis' gaze for the first time all day.

"That's the place, you know it?"

"Driven past but haven't ever stopped. Why?"

"Just curious. They serve more than burgers and fries though, so you can protect your poor, deprived body from all that fat and cholesterol."

"Just wish I could protect it from you and your big mouth," he retorted, standing.

"Aww, but there ain't no protection from _me_, blondie. You oughta know that by now." Travis grinned and stood to follow his partner.

"Go ahead and order, Marks," Wes instructed him, standing back and staring at the menu.

Travis gave Wes a look and then told the young man at the register, "Double cheeseburger, loaded, fries, and a Coke. And don't forget the fry sauce this time, kid."

Wes made a face. "You're going to have a heart attack by forty if you keep eating that way."

"Naw," Travis said. "I do exercise you know."

"That all for you today," the man-child behind the counter asked.

"Yes," Travis said, reaching for his wallet.

"No," Wes interrupted him. "Also, an oriental chicken salad, dressing on the side, and a bottle of water please."

The kid punched in the rest of the order, read it back to them, and asked again, "That everything?"

"Yes," Wes said, "that's it."

He read off the total and Wes held out a few bills to cover it. They took their food to a booth and sat, unwrapping and preparing their lunch to their standards. "What do I owe you, Wes?"

"Nothing. Call it an apology for my being such a jerk earlier."

"You don't have to apologize for that," Travis said, taking a giant bite of his burger.

Wes made another face. "I do because I was wrong. It wasn't your responsibility to keep me sober. And do you really have to have so many onions on your hamburger? I hope you don't plan on kissing anyone this afternoon."

Travis took another huge bite and chewed slowly, watching his partner's face. "Dontcha like onions, Mitchell?"

Forking a piece of chicken, Wes raised it to his lips and said, "Of course I like onions, just not on the breath of the man kissing me."

That stopped Travis mid-bite. Unsure if he should ignore it or not, he went with his usual tactic. He decided to tease Wes. "You expecting a kiss of gratitude for buying me lunch, baby?"

Opening his mouth and then snapping it closed, Wes shook his head. "No. No! Of course not, that's not what I meant. I just – "

Travis laughed. "I'm yanking your chain, Mitchell. Lighten up. Eat your salad. We've got a long afternoon ahead of us." Reaching across the table, he squeezed his partner's hand, holding it just long enough to get his point across before withdrawing it.

Wes thought working with Travis would be a lot easier if only he didn't flirt with everyone and everything so indiscriminately. That he included Wes in his flirting only made things that much more difficult to deal with. Being in love with your partner was rough enough, but when he treated you like every pretty girl he met, it became downright unbearable. And confusing.

The way he'd touched Wes' hand after lunch had undone him. So casual and yet it made Wes' heart pound in his chest. It'd taken nearly the rest of the afternoon to recover from it. Not that he'd ever fully recover from the touch of Travis Marks, but he could try.

If nothing else, he could take it with him and keep the memory for later. Later – like the next time Travis had a date with some hot blonde or redhead.

He was loath to admit it, but Travis had come to a conclusion after the weirdness of the day. The previous night, Wes had confessed that he tempted him. While he might have been joking, he'd had just enough Scotch to possibly be telling the truth. It was something Travis would have to figure out later. Maybe ask Wes again when they were both sober enough to be honest. Earlier, during lunch, Wes had not only bought his lunch, but hinted at the idea that kissing him after eating onions would be a huge turn off. And he couldn't forget the oddest part of the whole damn day – Wes had apologized to him.

That never happened. Ever.

It brought him to an undeniable conclusion, one that he was almost afraid to admit, even to himself. His partner had a crush on him. As bizarre as the idea was, the clues were all there, in black and white. The avoidance of eye contact after the night before – surely Wes remembered some of what they'd discussed? Travis had confessed to being attracted to men and Wes had reciprocated by hinting that he was attracted to Travis. Buying him lunch, being concerned over the excessive amount of fat and cholesterol he continually consumed, the onions, the kiss… the way Wes' breath had caught when he'd touched his hand.

_Yeah_.

Too bad Wes had no idea what he was getting himself into. As attractive as his partner was – those dimples were enough to make any man want to pinch his cheeks – he was much too good for the likes of this guy. Travis Marks had a habit of breaking everything he touched, leaving his relationships shattered on the ground behind him as he walked away from each and every one. He wasn't a staying kind of guy, and he knew without asking that that was what Wes needed – craved – someone who would _stay._

_You're falling for the wrong kind of man, baby. Keep on walking… _


	3. Beautiful Scar

_Don't you keep it all inside  
That part of you has never died  
I know you numbed it all away  
That pain was way too much to take_

_But now I'm here, the dam broke loose  
The tears will fall and you'll find you  
You're not alone, we'll make it through  
We've crossed that bridge to something new_

_(Beautiful Scar – Trapt)_

Like it or not, life had returned to its usual hectic pace. Get up, go to work, chase bad guys, go home, start over the next morning. At least Travis had a bit of extracurricular activities to blow off steam at the end of the day. Wes, not so much, as was evident by his prickly nature which was getting pricklier by the day.

This was why Travis was so surprised when he arrived at the station that morning and found his partner chatting up the new assistant to the coroner. Wes had his attention focused fully on the young redhead, the beginnings of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. _Interesting,_ he thought. When the young man – Riley, he thought his name was – reached out and touched Wes on the forearm, he saw a spark of something he hadn't expected flare in the blond. Attraction.

_Well, well, well. _

Uncharacteristically respecting Wes' privacy, Travis hung back out of sight until the adorable ginger with the quirky cowlick wandered back downstairs. He wondered if Jonelle had any idea what was going on and decided to ask her later, when Wes wasn't around. Giving his partner an extra few minutes to compose himself, Travis made his typical late arrival.

"It's about time," Wes griped.

"Mmm-hmm," Travis evaded. "So, how's the kid?"

A flash of blue met his gaze, then skimmed away again. "What kid?"

"The cute little redhead that was occupying your time when I arrived ten minutes ago. That one." He watched the blush start at the collar of the blond's dress shirt and creep up until it colored the tips of his ears. Travis took a perverse pleasure in seeing his partner flush so fully and he owned it. "You really are adorable when you're embarrassed."

"Shut. Up." Wes stared at his desk for another minute, breathing deeply. When he looked up, his face was strained, like he was breaking from the inside out. "Why do you do this to me? What did I ever do to make you _hate me so much_?"

Those last words were so fraught with misery that Travis instantly felt guilty. "I don't hate you, man, I swear. I actually like you quite a lot when you're not being such a prick. And when you are, well, can you blame me for teasing you? If I knew it bothered you so much, I wouldn't do it… as much." Hell, he had to get points for honesty, right?

Travis waited while Wes scrounged up enough nerve to look him in the eye again. When he did, his partner held his gaze for what seemed like forever and a day before speaking.

His voice still not as steady as it could be, Wes quietly asked, "How did you know?"

Contemplating telling the truth, Travis believed that this time, that wouldn't be the smartest course of action. Telling Wes that he'd drunkenly confessed it to him would only make things worse. Instead, he took the path of almost honesty. "It was written all over your face, baby. The way you listened to him, looked at him, you'd have to be an idiot to miss it."

Wes visibly relaxed, although the blush remained. "I was afraid I'd said something stupid the night we – I – got so wasted. I think… this is better, even if it is more embarrassing."

Reaching a hand out, Travis gave Wes' shoulder a friendly squeeze. "None of it's embarrassing. You are who you are and no one can say shit about it. No shame in loving who you love, as far as I'm concerned. Besides," Travis leaned in closer to his partner before whispering, "he is awfully cute, in an Opie sort of way. But I bet he's not one tenth as charming as I am."

Travis moved away from Wes' face, watching for the grin he hoped would appear. The left side of Wes' mouth quirked up, giving him a hint of what he'd wanted. Good enough for now.

"Marks, no one's even a tenth as charming as your mouthy ass. Now get to work."

"Aye, aye, skipper," he teased, giving Wes a mocking salute before collapsing into his desk chair.

"Marks," Wes called after his partner, who had already made it halfway to his motorcycle. "Wait."

Travis stopped in the middle of the station's parking lot, unconcerned about the cars maneuvering around him. "What's up, buttercup?"

Wes pressed his lips together in frustration. Why Travis insisted on calling him by these pet names – baby, buttercup, blondie, and more – he'd not figured out and it got annoying sometimes. Now being one of them. "Look, I need – do you think that maybe we could talk?"

Tilting his head, he waited for more information. "About?"

He threw his hands into the air, sighing loudly. "About this morning. I could use an unbiased ear."

"You think I'm an unbiased ear?" Travis grinned at the idea.

A chuckle escaped Wes despite his best effort to keep it inside. "No, not really, but you didn't get pissed at me earlier when you figured it out, so I thought…"

"…that I'd be a good sounding board. Okay, I get it. And of course I didn't get pissed. Why would I?"

He shrugged, unsure. "I don't know. People can be a bit uncomfortable with this kind of thing."

"I know that's right," he agreed. "But I'm not one of them. Come over to my place? I don't have any Scotch, but I have a six pack we can share."

Wes pressed his lips together, thinking about _sharing_ that six pack of Travis'.

"You're turning red again, Mitchell," Travis teased. "Are you thinking about _my _six pack, instead of the one I have on ice at home? Hmmm?"

The blush deepened, having been caught in the act. "I hate you, Marks. Just so you know."

"Naw, Wes, you looooooove me," he kidded. "See you at my place." Travis waved and mounted his bike, riding off into the evening.

_Fucker_, Wes thought, angrily. Mainly because he was right.

Travis' ears perked at the sound of someone rapping on his front door. Opening it, he grinned at Wes standing on the ground beside his trailer. "Took you long enough. Come on in."

Wes entered while Travis held the door for him. Seating himself in his usual spot, he relaxed back into what passed for a sofa in Travis' home. "Thanks," he said, taking the proffered beer and setting it aside for the moment.

"So, spill. What's going on?" Travis commandeered the other end of the sofa and looked at Wes, expectant. "You look like hell, by the way."

A sarcastic smirk lit Wes' face. "Gee, thanks, I appreciate the honesty." He shook his head, amused. "Truth is I feel like hell."

"Why?" He had an idea, but he wanted to let Wes tell his story on his own terms.

An exasperated sigh filled the room around them. "Because I'm tired of lying, Travis."

"Then stop."

"It's not that easy."

"Yes it is. No one at the station will give a damn. Hell, they'll probably not even know, really, because you're not one to go around announcing your conquests."

"Like you." There was a touch of humor shining in his eyes.

"Yes," Travis laughed. "Like me. I'm serious though. No one will bust your chops over it. Hell, I doubt anyone in the therapy group would even give it a second thought."

Now his eyes were glinting with real mirth. "Considering they thought we were a couple that first day as it was."

"Right." Travis pointed a finger in his direction. "And if you're discreet, no one you don't want to know will ever find out."

"Still… I worry," he admitted.

"I would, too. There are a lot of jackass homophobes out there, many of which work with us. But you can't let that keep you from finding someone."

Wes nodded. "I know you're right, but it's difficult to put yourself out there. How do you even go about finding a man in this town?"

Travis swallowed the snappy comeback in deference to the courage it took him to say that one word – man. "You could start by asking that cutie pie redhead out."

He shook his head. "No. Not a chance. As lovely as he is, he works with Jonelle, Travis. Can you imagine what hell I would have to live through if she found out? No thank you. Besides, I don't date where I work. You know that."

He did, all too well. "So, dating me is out of the question, huh?"

Wes' face contorted in a way Travis hadn't ever seen before, and he was pretty positive he had all of his partner's facial expressions down. Maybe he was right and he was the object of blondie's affections. He didn't want to believe it, for Wes' sake alone, but he kept making it clearer and clearer.

"Dating you has always been out of the question. We work together, remember?" Wes was avoiding his eyes again.

"Yeah, I can't forget that, baby. Not ever." Travis stood, taking Wes' empty bottle from him and tossing them into his makeshift recycling bin. Snagging two more out of the refrigerator, he handed one to Wes and sat back down. "So, you need to get out and make yourself visible. And if you can't face that, try an online service."

"I am not applying for a dating site," he fumed. "I am not that desperate."

Travis kept his mouth shut on that because he'd told him just the opposite not very long ago. "How long has it been since you've been on a date?"

He fiddled with the sweating bottle in his hands. Wes tugged at a torn piece of the label, peeling it off the brown glass. "Since my last anniversary with Alex."

It was worse than he thought. "Does this mean you haven't been out with _anyone_ since your divorce eighteen months ago?" His heart sank when Wes nodded weakly.

"Well," he said, looking up. "I've been out with you."

"That doesn't count," Travis said. "Not really. I didn't even kiss you goodnight."

He could hear Wes swallow from where he sat at the opposite end. Continuing to toy with the label on his bottle, Travis figured Wes was ignoring the last part of his comment. Not that he could blame him. He was baiting the poor boy after all.

"Wes, you have to do something or you'll miss your chance."

"There's nothing I can do," he whispered.

"Why not?" Travis moved down the length of the sofa, reseating himself on the cushion beside the blond.

"Because the man I'm crazy about is a womanizing loudmouth and I'm not sure I can trust him to be faithful."

_What the fuck did he just say?_ "You looking to date my brother or what?"

Abruptly, Wes stood and exited the trailer. Travis watched him leave before quickly getting to his feet and following him outside. The blonde was halfway into his car when Travis caught up with him.

"Wes, wait. What did I say?"

Blue eyes full of pain and longing met his, wavered, looked away. "Just go the hell away, Marks. I thought you'd actually listen and again, I was wrong."

Slamming the driver's door shut, Wes pulled away and drove off, leaving Travis standing befuddled in his driveway.

"Well," he muttered to no one, "I guess that answers my dumb ass question, doesn't it?"

Pulling off the road, he came to a stop and shut off his car. Wes beat the palm of his hand against the steering wheel, screaming in frustration. "How could you be so stupid? You knew better," he reprimanded himself. "If you've learned anything at this point, you should know that you can't trust Travis Marks to be serious. Ever. Stupid, stupid, lovesick idiot!"

As his anger petered out, he rested his head against the leather-wrapped wheel, frustrated tears rushing to the surface. He'd really hit rock bottom, if he was sitting on the side of the road crying over unrequited love. "I take it back, you're not stupid, Wesley, you're pathetic.

A tap to his window startled him into an upright position. Looking to the passenger's side, he was astounded to see Travis standing there, looking in at him. Seeing him broken, tears slicking his cheeks. _I'm never going to hear the end of this._ "What?"

"Unlock your door, let me in." He motioned downward in case he was so muddled he couldn't understand simple commands.

"I told you to go away, Travis."

"I didn't mean to upset you," he said. "Now unlock the damn door or I'll get the slim Jim out."

He hesitated only for a moment, fingers hovering over the automatic lock control. Knowing Travis wasn't joking, he sighed and let his partner inside. "Why are you here?"

Travis settled himself into the passenger seat and pulled the door closed behind him. "I'm here because you took off like I'd just kicked your kitten. What the actual fuck is going on here? You won't tell me a damn thing and, when you do, it's in vague bits and pieces that I can't put together."

He looked at Wes for a while, long enough for Wes to start feeling a bit wary of his partner. Knowing that this was the time to tell Travis the truth didn't help unglue his lips any. Truth be told, he was certain the idea of telling Travis anything right then only sealed them more securely.

"Wes? You in there still? Talk to me." Travis leaned over the center console and took the blond's hand in his own.

As tempted as he was to immediately pull away, Wes forced himself to relax, to enjoy the feel of Travis' warm skin against his own, even if it was just palm to knuckles. Seeing as it was as close as he would ever get to having his partner truly hold him, he wanted to prolong it. "I'm still here. Look, I'm sorry for freaking out on you back there but… it's complicated. Too complicated to talk about right now."

"Try me," Travis said, running his thumb along the top of Wes' hand.

He shook his head. "I can't, Trav, I'm sorry. I just – can't." Wes took a deep breath and slowly let it out again. "Please just trust me on this. You'd have to get me more wasted than last time to get me to own up to this tonight."

That admission evoked a chuckle out of the passenger. "Oh really? I don't know about you, but that sounds like a challenge to me. There's a bar…"

"Travis! No!" But he was laughing, seeing the grin on Travis' face. "Please, can you give me a little more time?"

"Yeah, of course I can." He released Wes' hand and cupped his face instead. "But know that if you need me, I'm here for you. Got it?"

Unable to speak, Wes simply nodded.

"Alright then. You gonna be okay home alone? Need me to come with, just for a little bit?"

The lure of saying yes was strong, too strong. _No, I won't be okay. Come home with me, hold me, comfort me… _He couldn't go through with it, however. "No, but thank you. I'll survive until I'm back basking in your presence tomorrow morning, Marks."

"If you insist, then I'll talk to you in the morning." Travis looked at him one last time, like he was searching for something in his face, and then he left the seat beside him and remounted his motorcycle. With a half salute, he was gone.

"Complicated my ass," Travis swore under his breath. He'd been pacing his trailer for the past hour, arguing with nobody about whether Wes would appreciate a spontaneous visit or not. Odds were on not, but that didn't temper his desire to run to his partner's side any. The thing that pissed him off the most was that he was positive Wes had meant him. Who else did he know that was a womanizing loudmouth? Travis may be in denial about a lot of things, but these were two things he embraced. The women loved him, after all, and his smart mouth had been borne from many years in the foster system. He wore both monikers like battle scars. Hard earned.

But that nagging realization that the world did not revolve around one Travis Marks ate at the back of his mind. _What if I'm wrong and I make him even more uncomfortable than he already is? _ The only thing worse than that was not asking and allowing Wes to live in misery and awkwardness for the remainder of their partnership. It was a crappy conundrum, one he had no answer to.

_Although… naw. _Bringing Dr. Ryan into this mess would only complicate things more than they already were. _But maybe… maybe she might have an answer. _

It was worth a shot.

"Hey," Travis said, sliding into the booth. "Thanks for agreeing to meet me, Dr. Ryan."

"Anything to help you and Wes, Travis. Now, what can I do for you?"

"Coffee?" She nodded and he flagged down the waitress long enough to order two coffees and a piece of pie. "Okay, now we can talk."

Dr. Ryan sipped her coffee and waited. "Anytime you're ready."

Travis nodded absently. "Okay, here goes. I've recently discovered something about Wes. It was by accident – he'd had way too much to drink and he confessed – so I kept it to myself. But more recently, he's admitted the truth, more or less."

"I see. And he's okay with you knowing this secret?" She set her coffee cup on the table and eyed Travis' pie as it was placed in front of him.

"Yeah, I think so anyway. I mean, he came over to my place and confided in me. But that's also about the time things went to hell, too." Sighing, he stuck a fork into the chocolate cream pie.

"How so?" She'd put on her therapist persona he noticed.

"Wes is gay, Dr. Ryan. And he says he's in love with someone he can't be with. I think it might be me."

Emma sat back at this pronouncement, taking the news in. It helped certain things about Wes fall into place, but not everything. "Why do you think it might be you, Travis? Has he said or done something to lead you to believe this?"

Travis looked over his shoulder and raised his coffee mug to the waitress. "He said the guy he was hot for was a loudmouth womanizer."

In what he suspected was an attempt to compose herself, Dr. Ryan stared at her coffee for a moment before commenting. "Well, that certainly sounds like you, doesn't it?"

He bobbed his head up and down. "It sure does and now I'm worried."

"Why?"

"Because I opened my damn mouth and upset him. Asked if he was trying to date my brother."

"And it hit a little too close to home. He's afraid you know."

"I think so. What do I do?" He turned those sad blue eyes on her and waited.

"Talk to him. Tell him how you feel about him if he won't admit to how he feels about you. But before you do any of that, you need to think about two things."

"Like?" Travis trailed the tines of his fork through his whipped cream, worried at what was coming next.

"You need to think about the two possible answers he might give to your question… and you need to be prepared for whatever feelings either answer spurs. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Travis nodded, slowly. "I think so. You're saying I need to be sure of how I feel before I ask and am surprised by my own gut reaction."

"Precisely." Emma sipped from her coffee again, smiling. "If he says yes, that it is indeed you he's interested in, then you also need to be certain you're willing and able to embark upon a serious, monogamous, _adult_ relationship, Travis, because Wes will settle for nothing less. This I am positive of."

"I know you're right about that," he admitted.

"If there isn't anything else?" She watched as he shook his head in the negative. "Okay then, I'll see you Tuesday in group. If anything comes up before then, please call me. I'm here to help."

"I know you are, Dr. Ryan." She stood and he followed her with his eyes. "I appreciate all you've done for us, both in therapy and tonight. I'll let you know if I need any more advice."

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "I hope you do. And I'll be expecting an update after you two have had your little talk."

Travis returned the grin she gave him. "Update, right. Although, I think whatever the outcome, it'll be obvious. He'll either hate me or be all over me, Doc."

Emma laughed, the both of them knowing exactly how true that was.

Travis thought about what he and Dr. Ryan had talked about and came to a conclusion. Taking out his phone he sent a quick text message.

_We need to talk. Not now, I know you'll scream if I come near you again tonight. Tomorrow. _

The reply returned almost immediately.

_Why?_

Why indeed? The answer was obvious, to him at least and probably to Wes as well, even if he refused to admit it. Travis had come to understand their relationship was only going to continue to fall apart unless he got to the bottom of Wes' mysterious crush.

_Because you're keeping something from me and I want to know what – who – it is. Capiche?_

Wes didn't respond as quickly this time and Travis fretted that he'd stepped over the line again. He was so very good at that these days.

_My love life isn't your concern, Marks._

Travis didn't even hesitate. Fingers flying over the phone's keyboard, he responded.

_It is when it might involve me, you ass. _

Wes didn't reply for a long time. It'd been nearly ten minutes since Travis had sent his last text and he was close to giving up when his phone chirped letting him know he'd gotten a response. He held his breath as he read it.

_Fine. You win, I give up. Tomorrow after work. O'Malley's. Six o'clock._

He stared at his partner's response for a while, trying to decipher the emotions behind it. Was he pissed? Embarrassed? Simply resigned to the fact Travis wasn't going to give up until he had a name? He wasn't sure, but finally Wes had agreed. That was a step in the right direction. He'd take it. For now.

They could decide how to move forward later. After Travis knew what he was dealing with and whether or not he and his partner were about to venture into what could only be a very passionate, very tumultuous relationship.

Because for Travis, being with Wes in each and every capacity was the only option. An option he hadn't even known existed until right that minute when his heart told him so. But it was worth that shot, that attempt to ease Wes' hurt and help him back into the light. Guide him towards happiness and maybe even love? He didn't know. Hell, he wasn't even sure love truly existed, but he knew that companionship did, and friendship did, and happiness absolutely did.

They could start there.


	4. Call Me

_Call me a sinner, call me a saint__  
__Tell me it's over, I'll still love you the same__  
__Call me your favorite, call me the worst__  
__Tell me it's over, I don't want you to hurt__  
__It's all that I can say, so I'll be on my way_

_(Call Me – Shinedown)_

"I know it's me," Travis said by way of introduction.

"Well, that narrows it down, Marks. But what the hell was the question? 'Who is the most annoying person you know?' Or maybe, 'what's the epitome of reckless'?" Wes took a long draw off his Scotch, watching Travis over the rim of the crystal tumbler. "Both fit."

Travis dipped his chin in acknowledgement. "True, but neither is correct."

Wes traced patterns in the condensation dripping from his glass. "So what is the correct question?"

"How about 'who is Wesley Mitchell's secret crush'?" Travis leaned across the table and moved Wes' glass out of reach. "How close am I?"

"Close enough to be an arrogant, obnoxious asshole," he seethed. "What is your obsession with needing to know who I want to date?"

"Wes," Travis growled. "Calm the fuck down. I only want to know because it's obviously bothering you! You've been a royal pain in the ass for the last month. If it's me, tell me so we can work this out."

"Oh, right," he scoffed, reclaiming his drink and draining it dry. "Because you'd be willing to _work this out_. Forgive me for being skeptical."

Travis ran a hand across his face. "You know, if you'd only give me the benefit – "

"You think you deserve that? I've _been trying_ to tell you for weeks now and you refuse to take me seriously. Did you ever think that maybe if you acted like a goddamned adult on occasion, you might get the answers you want?"

"Know what? I have been serious with you. I've tried to listen, but you keep shutting me out. So you're right, I stop being serious after a while. What's the point when you can't get a damn straight answer?" Travis stood and stomped away from the booth they'd been sharing in the back corner of O'Malley's. About seven steps away, he stopped, and returned. "Something else. I've been nothing but supportive of you, so much so that the night you drunkenly came out to me over the phone, I kept it to my fucking self. I could have so easily dropped hints that I knew, tormented you about it, but I didn't. And you know why? Because I respect you. But whatever, Wes. And it's too bad, too. I think we could be good together."

"How could we," Wes choked out. "You don't respect the women you go out with, what reason do I have to believe you'd respect me, either?"

He stopped in his tracks again, Wes' strained query tearing at his soul. After a long, deep breath, Travis caught and held Wes' gaze. "Because until I met you, I didn't know what a real relationship could be like. Even though this," he waved a hand between them, "is only a partnership, in a lot of ways, it works the same. I've learned from you what it means to give and take. I've never had that with any woman. But you'll never believe that I think you're different."

This time, when he walked away, Wes let him.

_Well, now you've really done it._ Not only had he outed himself fully, he'd chased off the only man he actually cared about. But how could he have known that Travis fucking Marks would even consider a relationship with him? Who would have believed he'd want anything more than a roll in the hay before _sayonara, sister_.

It was too late to do anything about it now, however. Travis wouldn't take his call tonight if he were bleeding out his eye sockets. Whether he'd bother to speak to him in the morning or not was still up in the air. Something that felt like a brick landed in his stomach suddenly, followed by the thought _it all depends on whether he finds someone to warm his bed tonight. _

"God damn you, stop it," he swore. "Just stop… making things worse. Just because he stormed off doesn't mean he's… he'll… _god_."

Travis stood outside O'Malley's looking in. The shadowed figure of his partner, bent over the table, head in hands, was enough to break him in two. He had a nearly uncontrollable urge to rush back inside, gather Wes in his arms and whisper platitudes in his pretty pink ears until he calmed. But he couldn't. Wes had made his position on all of this very clear – he didn't trust Travis any farther than he could throw him, and considering blondie's slim figure, that wouldn't be far at all.

He was screwed, completely and utterly _screwed_. Wes loved him but refused to give him a chance to prove himself. Travis couldn't quite decide which was worse – that Wes didn't trust him with his heart or that he wasn't willing to even try. Either way, it left him feeling something he hadn't felt since he was a kid.

Worthless, pointless… unwanted.

"Come on in, Mitchell, have a seat." Captain Sutton was drinking his morning cup of green tea and offered some to Wes.

"No thanks, Cap," he said, holding a hand in the air.

"Suit yourself," he said, pouring himself a measure. "What's brought you to my office this early in the morning? You and Marks better not be arguing again. I swear I'll knock your heads together if you keep at it."

Wes looked at the hands he held clasped in his lap, feeling guilty. He and Travis _were _fighting again – Marks hadn't said a single word to him since he'd arrived an hour ago – but not for the reasons the captain thought. "Captain, we are and we're not but –"

Sutton raised his eyes until they met those of his finest detective. "Whatever it is, I don't want to hear it. All I want is to see you march your ass back out there and fix this, pronto!"

"Captain, wait, please. Hear me out. It's not what you think. It's not because we can't get along. Not this time."

"You've got five minutes, Mitchell, and then I'm locking you two in an interrogation room until you're friends again."

What the captain didn't realize is that he and Travis couldn't ever be friends again. Or at least, not as simply as they'd been in the beginning. No, last night changed every last thing between them forever. If he locked them in a room together now? He'd likely tackle Marks onto the table and ride him until he collapsed from exhaustion. Observation windows be damned. As it stood, he had no shame left.

"Wes?"

He looked up and found the captain watching him. "Sorry. I was thinking… not sure how to tell you this."

"Just say it, we'll figure the rest out once we hear the words."

Typical Sutton-talk. Therapy had made him into quite the odd little man. "I'm, well, damn. Okay – honestly – I think I'm in love with that dumb bastard and it's making working with him increasingly difficult. There. It's out. Can I have a new partner now?"

In true Sutton fashion, the captain leaned back in his chair, not in the least thrown by Wes' revelation. Rubbing his chin with a forefinger, he eyed Wes. "Do you want a new partner so you can pursue a relationship with 'that dumb bastard' or because you're unwilling to make this work?"

Wes opened his mouth, too shocked to form any words. He gave his head a good shake and tried again. "No, we're not in a relationship and –"

"There's paperwork for it if you are," he reminded.

Grimacing, Wes continued like the captain hadn't spoken. "We're not going to be, either. I don't think I can trust him, not like that. And now – now he's mad at me and…"

Sutton watched his generally strong detective crumple before his eyes. "And so you're running away. I don't like this. Splitting you two up isn't right. Hasn't therapy helped you any?"

Wes looked at his hands, ashamed. "It has helped, cap. Maybe too much. It's how I finally realized that I - I loved him. But he's a Casanova of the highest caliber and it hurts to watch him flirt all the time. Hurts so much that I can't do my job properly. Bottom line? He distracts me and that could get one of us killed."

Sutton nodded in silent agreement. "True, but I still don't like it. Want to give it another shot? Maybe a week? Try and pull yourself together?"

Shaking his head, Wes stood. "No. See, last night, he confronted me - asked if it was him that I wanted. I couldn't admit to it and we fought."

"Pretty much confirming his suspicions, eh?" Sutton let out a grunting sort of chuckle. "He's a damn fine detective, annoying or not, Mitchell. You gotta give him that."

"I do, believe me. I don't want anyone else by my side during the day. But... things have become complicated."

"Complicated," Sutton snorted. "Not hardly. You can uncomplicate them too, you know. But if he's a distraction, then it's best you separate. For now. I will not allow this to become permanent, you hear me? I am not letting my best pair of detectives break up."

Too bad that's exactly what they were doing. Wes thanked the captain and turned to leave.

"Mitchell? I'll send Martinez to partner you for a few days, but that's it. You talk to Marks and you fix this."

"Thank you sir, and I will." _When hell freezes over_.

"Marks, we've got to talk." Wes stood at his desk, facing the top of Travis' head.

"You made it perfectly clear last night that we have nothing to talk about." He looked up and studied Wes' face. "Not to mention that, if we did, you couldn't trust me to be _serious_ about it anyway."

"Damnit, Travis, listen to me." Wes sat in his chair, hands clasped on the desk in front of him. "I asked the cap to reassign me. Martinez is going to partner me for now, no idea who he's sending to –"

"What?" Travis was furious and Wes reared back from his building anger.

"You heard me. We're done. Cap said it was temporary, but I can't do this with you any longer. I can't think straight, I can't concentrate, I can't –"

Travis was standing now, fingers balled into fists, both visibly trembling. "How could you do this to me?"

"To _you_? Why are you the important one here suddenly? Wait - I forgot. You're always the important one, aren't you?"

"Better to be selfish than egotistical, Mitchell."

It was crazy, but he swore he could see the sheen of unshed tears lingering in his partner's – ex-partner's – eyes. "I'm not arrogant, Travis. I'm being practical. If I'm distracted, too busy thinking about what I can't have, one of us will get hurt and it'll probably be you. I couldn't live with that." It was more than he'd wanted to admit, but he was unable to stop his traitor mouth.

"But I need you," Travis whispered.

Wes hadn't ever heard his voice so small, so scared, not ever. Travis had always been too good at covering his true feelings, something Wes had always envied. Why he wasn't pasting a smile over the pain, he couldn't fathom. He sure as hell wished _he _could do that right about now. "You don't need me, Travis. You don't need anyone. You never have."

"Mitchell?" They both turned to look towards the sound of the voice. An older, but still handsome, Hispanic man stood a few feet away.

"Martinez," Wes greeted. "I'm almost ready to go. Captain Sutton gave me some info on the case you're working, so I'm prepared."

"Wes, don't do this." Travis' sultry blue eyes pleaded for mercy.

"I'll see you around, Marks."

And so he left.

Travis watched him go, the words _please stay_ hanging off the edge of his tongue. Along the way, he caught the captain's eye and got a 'what could I do' shrug in response. The 'you know how he can be' part was understood by both men. He turned away from the captain's judging gaze and fell back into his chair, defeated.

_This must be what Dr. Ryan meant,_ he thought. Being ambushed by your emotions when you least expected it. He didn't like it one bit.

He liked being abandoned and thrown aside by his partner even less. Wes was always accusing him of being the irrational, irresponsible one, but this time, he stood for what mattered and owned up to his own faults. And where did it get him? It got him _here_. Goddamn _here_, and here sucked because he was _alone_ and miserable here.

"Fuck you, Wesley Mitchell," he growled to the empty desk across from him. "If you really loved me you wouldn't have run. So you can have your new partner, your new life, and all that comes with it because I'm done with your bullshit."

"Travis? Where's Wes?"

He faced Dakota and steeled himself for the answer he had no choice but to give her. "He's not coming. I'm only here tonight to tell you guys that neither of us will be coming back."

"I thought you had to," Mr. Dumont asked.

"If we were going to stay partners, we did, but Wes has decided that he can't work with me any longer and has gotten himself a new partner. So, no need for this any longer."

"We wouldn't mind if you still came around," Dakota offered.

"I appreciate that, but I feel dumb enough sitting here tonight, and I have reason to be here now. A month from now though? Yeah, I have enough to make me feel like an idiot without adding to the list."

"Travis," Dr. Ryan said before Dakota could put another two cents worth in, "I am available for individual counseling should you or Wes need it."

He looked away, tongue dragging along his lower lip in thought. "Thanks, I'll keep it in mind. I think I need to go now."

"But you haven't told us _why_."

"Why what, Rozelle? Why Wes dumped me for good this time or why do I have to go?"

"Wes, of course," Dakota clarified. They might have even planned this, these two.

"That's Wes' story to tell and if you see him, please ask him because I'm not sure I even know." He stood, turning to face the exit.

And found Wes standing in the doorway.

"What the hell are you doing here," Travis demanded, anger rising within him again.

Wes looked around at the group of people he had come to know so well, even if he'd never call them 'friends'. "I came to say good-bye. Dr. Ryan did so much for us that it was the decent thing to do." He gave a casual shrug.

"Apparently not enough," Travis muttered. "Fine, but you sit over there, I don't want you near me tonight."

"Oooh girl," he heard Rozelle whispering to Dakota, "there's something juicy going on there."

"Ladies, please," Dr. Ryan scolded them. "Come in, Wes. Sit down. We were just about to start."

"I think that's enough for one night, I'll see you all next week." Dr. Ryan excused the group for the night. "You two, however, you stay. I want a minute."

Travis and Wes looked at each other, grimacing like two boys caught with their hands in the cookie jar. "Yes, Ma'am," Wes replied, reclaiming his chair.

"What have we done now," Travis asked, defensive.

"Nothing," Emma replied, "and that's the problem. Are you two really going to let all of your hard work go to waste? All the time you've put in here and you're throwing it away because you," she looked at Wes, "are uncomfortable about _him_." She pointed at Travis.

"I'm not _uncomfortable_," Wes said, fidgeting in his chair. "I've never been more comfortable with someone in my life. Or, was once we got things back on track anyway."

"Then why are you running away from me," Travis asked before Dr. Ryan could.

He looked longingly at the door, wishing he were anywhere but here. "I'm afraid to trust him."

Travis started to speak but stopped at a look from Dr. Ryan. "We know Travis has his issues, we all do, but you trust him with your life every day, Wes. Why won't you trust him in this?"

Trying to hide the hurt he felt, he shrugged a shoulder. "He's proven himself as a mostly dependable partner," Wes offered, "he's saved my ass more than once and I'm thankful."

Their eyes met for a brief moment, locking and holding. Wes felt everything he'd been holding inside surge to the surface, begging to be spoken. He wasn't sure he had enough strength for this.

"But?" Travis was watching him, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"But he – you – haven't proven yourself in that capacity to me. Not that you've ever had the chance, but really Travis. Look at the string of women you've left behind you. How am I supposed to open myself up to that? I'm new at this, you know. I don't want my first relationship to be a complete disaster."

"Just a partial disaster?"

He started to glare at his partner, but the half smile growing on Marks' face erased his anger. You had to give the boy credit, he really knew how to diffuse a situation. "Yeah, I could live with a partial disaster."

"You've come to the right place, blondie. 'Partial Disaster' is my middle name." Travis gave him a playful punch to the arm.

"Funny, I thought you said it was Andrew." Wes turned to Dr. Ryan and frowned slightly. "You know how sneaky you are?"

Emma showed him a satisfied smile. "Oh yes, they teach you that in college. There's an entire course on tricking your clients into falling in love. Didn't you know that, Wes?"

"No," he said, the undeniable grin sprawling on his lips. "Can't say that I did."

She put her serious face back on. "Wes, this isn't going to be easy. Travis isn't perfect, we both know that. He has a tendency to treat people carelessly as well as brush the serious things off. But he has proven he can be trustworthy and loyal and I think that's more important than anything else."

"See," Travis said, grinning. "She thinks I'd make a good boyfriend."

"See," Wes mocked, "there you go, making light of serious things again."

"Wes, Travis has his quirks, but so do you. You take everything much too seriously and you can be unforgiving when someone makes a mistake. For this relationship to work," and here she glared at each in turn, "Travis will have to make an effort to take your feelings and ideas seriously. And you, Wes, will have to cut Travis some slack, because he's going to make mistakes. It's how he gets to the right answer – through trial and error."

Wes thought about this for a moment, weighing her words and deciding she had a valid point. "Okay, you're right about all of it. I'm an asshole, you've told me so yourself. And he's a child. How does that make us a good fit?"

"Because you balance each other out. You keep him grounded while he keeps you from stagnating within yourself."

Wes nodded absently. "Oddly enough, that makes sense. So, do you really think he'll make a good boyfriend?" He attempted to smile at Travis, unsure of how well he'd succeeded.

"Yes, I do," she confirmed. "But only if you both put an effort into making it work. I said before that this won't be easy. It'll be a constant tug-of-war, give and take, but I believe you can make it work, if you try. Are you willing?"

"I am," Travis said without hesitation. "Are you, Wes?"

Terror filled him inside. Forcibly tamping it down, he struggled to maintain the smile on his face. "I am, too. I promise I'll try, Travis."

"That's all I need to hear, baby." He lifted Wes' hand to his face, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "Just give me a chance."


	5. So Far Away

_An' now that we're here, it's so far away  
An' I feel like I can face the day  
An' I can't forget that I'm not ashamed  
To be the person that I am today_

_- Staind_

Travis wasn't happy with the compromise he and Wes had come to the night before, but he knew in his heart that it was the right thing to do, even if it sucked big, fat man hooters. He tried to convince Wes that he needed him near every minute of every day, but the blond was having none of it.

"Why on earth do you need me around all the time, Marks," he'd asked.

"Because I like you," Travis had replied. "You're smart, you're cute, and you're fun to screw with."

"Greeeeat," had been Wes' sarcastic response.

If he was honest with himself – and he'd made a vow to be just that – he missed having that arrogant ass at his right hand continuously. Who would challenge him? Push him to see things that weren't there? To make those connections that he normally would have missed? Those were the things Wesley Mitchell did for him.

Not to mention watching his fine backside move in those exceptionally well-tailored suit pants didn't hurt. Not one bit.

So, they had agreed. Wes would continue to work with his new partner for the next few weeks until he could get a handle on everything that was happening between them. Again, Travis didn't like it one bit, but for Wes' sake – and the sake of any possible relationship they might be able to make – he would give it a chance.

He spotted Wes in the break room, pouring himself a cup of nasty coffee. It didn't matter who made it or even what brand they brought in, it always turned out disgusting, which pissed Mitchell off to no end. Judging by the grimace currently residing on his face, today wasn't any better either.

"Man, you know better than to drink this crap," Travis said, stepping into the break room and picking up a mug.

Wes made another face before setting the mug down. "I know, but I was desperate."

Travis had an idea but hesitated. _Should I even ask? He'd told me to back off and he'd let me know but…_ "Hey, you want to go grab a cup at the cart out front?"

"Oh dear god, I thought you'd never ask, Marks." Wes laughed, clapping Travis on the arm. "I'll even pay."

"You had me at 'I'll pay'," Travis grinned. "Come on, let's go."

They walked out of the station and toward the coffee cart and early morning salvation. The cute barista handed Wes a steaming hot cup of his favorite roast and he savored that first, long sip. "Ahhh, now that's a cup of coffee that I can live with."

Blowing on the surface of his own cup, he eyed his one-time partner carefully. He liked what he saw – Wes was smiling, eyes bright. No dark circles under his eyes, or at least, no more than any of the rest of them tended to have on any given day. He'd put on a couple pounds and was beginning to fill out again. His weight loss had been so subtle that Travis hadn't even noticed until it was too late, and that made him feel awful. "You look good," he said. "Being away from me must be good for you."

_Damnit. _ He hadn't meant for it to come out like that.

Chuckling, Wes took another sip of his coffee. "To the contrary, I'm a mess without you," he admitted. "But I still think this is for the best."

"Why? If you're a mess without me – and let's be real, the feeling's mutual – why stay away?" He sounded needy again, but he really didn't care. Wes' confession and their subsequent talks had made Travis understand how much he really cared for his partner and how good they were together. How lost he felt on those rare days Wes didn't show for work or they were forced to work apart for whatever reason.

Wes looked around for a moment before spotting an open bench just behind the coffee cart. Inclining his head towards it, he said, "Let's go sit for a minute, okay? My new partner's even worse at telling time than you are."

Travis smiled at the teasing hint in the blond's voice. "Sure, man."

They sat and Wes was quiet for a minute. It took a couple false starts before he was able to say what he needed to say. "To answer your question, this has been an eye-opening experience for me. I've known for a while that I was attracted to you, Marks, but those feelings made me uncomfortable. Even made me a bit – what was the word you liked to use? Crotchety." He sipped his coffee, thinking. "Being away from you has forced me to reconcile my feelings with our partnership. Can I have both? Could we make it work? That kind of thing. Also, it's given us the chance to have moments like this where we're just two guys hanging out. Having coffee. No obligations, no expectations."

He let that sink in for a moment. "So? What's your opinion on all of this? Can you have it all?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "That's why I'm still working with Martinez. But things are much clearer."

Wes looked up from his coffee cup and met Travis' eyes for the first time all morning. Travis took this as a positive sign and scooted a bit closer on the bench. He was about to take the biggest risk he'd ever taken – and that was saying a lot, considering - and although he thought he might be jumping the gun a bit, his conscience wasn't giving him any way out. "Clearer, huh? Like you've not changed your mind and decided you were delusional when falling for me?"

"No," Wes smiled, running the palm of his hand along his jawline. "Not delusional. Insane maybe, but not delusional."

Travis couldn't find it within himself to even be slightly offended by that. "So, does that mean if I asked you to have dinner with me, you'd say yes?"

Sitting back against the bench, Wes looked at Travis. "I – I'm not sure. Would it be _just _dinner? I'm not just new to this," he motioned between the two of them, "but I've not actually been on a date since –"

"Since Alex," he finished. "I hear ya, baby, and I get it, too. So yeah, just dinner, no funny stuff," he assured him.

"In other words, it wouldn't be a typical date with Travis Marks." Wes winced. "Sorry, I didn't mean to imply it'd be a date."

He tilted his head, observing the blond. "Why wouldn't it be a date?"

Wes shook his head. "I don't know. I just don't want to get my hopes up or put any added pressure on you."

"Would you rather just grab a drink somewhere? If dinner's too much?" He rested a hand on Wes' leg, reassuring him that there wasn't any reason to be nervous.

"No," Wes said, sighing. "Dinner's great, actually. I –"

"Mitchell," Martinez called, striding up towards the two detectives.

"Martinez," Travis responded, removing his hand from his ex-partner's leg.

"You're late," Wes informed him. "Again."

Martinez shook his head, laughing. "And here you are, busting my chops for it. He do this to you, Marks?"

Travis grinned, giving Wes a sideways glance. "Every damn day, my friend."

Wes glared at him. "Point is, he's not just late, but _you_ beat him, Travis. That makes him _exceptionally_ late and that's just not allowable."

It took every ounce of restraint he had not to laugh, because it was all so very true. "Yeah man, if I'm beating you to work? You'd better find a new route. Or get up earlier. Something."

"I left a case file on your desk, Martinez," Wes said, taking control of the conversation again. "Go look at it, I'll be there in a few."

"You've got it," he said, giving a wave and wandering off.

"You should be nicer to the kid, he's still green."

"While he is still green as far as being a detective goes," Wes agreed, "he's been a cop long enough to know you show up on time."

"Point." Travis was just grateful it wasn't him on the other end of the coming lecture.

"So, uh, about dinner?" Wes fidgeted a bit before looking back at Travis. "You really want to do this?"

Travis nodded. "You better believe it."

"When were you thinking?" He looked towards the station briefly, as if he were assuring himself no one was listening in.

"Tonight? Or is that too soon? We could always try for Thursday." He wanted nothing more than for Wes to jump at tonight, but he wasn't going to push his luck. _Baby steps_, he reminded himself. Dr. Ryan had advised they take it slow, for both their sakes, something that wasn't exactly in Travis' nature.

Wes looked a tiny bit terrified at the idea of dinner tonight. "Thursday would be good," he said slowly. "Although, Friday might be better."

Friday would be better for so many reasons, but Travis doubted Wes' reasons were the same as his would be. "Friday's good, too, but why is that better than Thursday?"

He looked away, a slight flush starting to climb his neck. "Because, if I completely fuck this up between us, I won't have to look you in the eye again until Monday."

A sharp bark of laughter exploded out of Travis. "Oh baby," he chuckled, squeezing Wes' thigh, "you're not going to fuck this up because that's _my _specialty, right? Besides, I think we know – and like – each other well enough that one bad date won't scare the other off."

"You might just be on to something there," Wes agreed. "And now I've got to go. Text me with the when, where, and whatnot later, please?"

He watched Wes stand and shove his free hand into his pocket, the other still holding his now empty coffee cup. "You've got it. Give me a day or so to figure it out and I'll let you know."

"You've got it. See ya around, Marks."

"See ya, Mitchell."

Honestly, he couldn't believe he managed to keep the giddiness locked inside until he'd found a moment alone to decompress. And squeal with delight. _Travis Marks had asked him out!_ It was still impossible to believe, even after everything they'd gone through the last several weeks. The prospect of having a meal one-on-one with Travis was both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. Wes resigned himself to being terrified until they were seated across from one another, munching on appetizers.

He looked into the mirror one last time, smoothing out his bangs and giving himself one last fist pump before breathing deeply and composing himself. Martinez was a stand-up guy and one heck of a budding detective, but he wasn't quite sure he'd want his partner bouncing off the walls over a prospective date four nights hence.

"Okay, Mitchell, we can do this. We can make it until Friday night without blowing a fuse, okay? After dinner, when you're back home alone, then you can have your meltdown. Got it?" He nodded at his reflection in the mirror and exited the lower-level restroom.

"Wes," a familiar voice called as he exited the restroom, "you came down here and didn't stop by to see me?"

_Shit._ "Jonelle, how've you been? You look good this morning."

She gave him her bullshit detecting smile. "Thank you," she said, "but you changed the subject."

Wes laughed, nervously, knowing he was caught. "Okay, I confess. I snuck down here and wasn't coming by to see you. Forgive me?"

"Depends. Are you sneaking away from Travis?"

"Travis? No, I'm sneaking away from Martinez. Believe it or not, he's more annoying than Travis ever could be." He ran his fingers through his hair, fluffing up his bangs.

"Why are you hiding from Martinez," she asked, leaning against the wall.

"Ahhh," he stalled. "Because Travis and I aren't partners right now."

"Oh for the love of god, did you two break up _again_?" A disgusted look, tinted with just a touch of amusement, settled onto her face.

"Yes, I mean, no. I mean – damn you, stop flustering me. We're working apart for a bit is all." He threw his hands up, defeated.

"Uh-huh, I guess I'm going to have to ask Travis if I want the real scoop." She pushed off the wall and headed back towards the morgue.

"Jonelle, please, no wait!" She stopped and turned to look at him, waiting. "Please don't ask him. Not yet. Wait until Monday."

She regarded him a moment longer, an odd look replacing her earlier smile. Nodding, she said, "Okay. You've never led me astray, Mitchell. You've got until Monday."

He visibly deflated as she walked away. Pressing the button for the elevator, he waited for the ding that seemed to take forever. Wes exited the elevator on the main floor, almost running into Travis' broad chest on the way out.

"Whoa there, Detective Locomotive," he chided, steadying Wes with a hand on each shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he said, lightly touching Travis' forearms before dropping his hands. "Just had a run-in with Jonelle, so if she comes around asking embarrassing questions, ignore her until Monday."

Travis didn't have a clue what Wes was talking about but he agreed anyway. Reaching out, he brushed his fingers across the spiky points of Wes' ruffled bangs. "New 'do or did she make you that nervous, baby?"

Moving back, Wes smoothed his bangs for what seemed like the eightieth time that day. "Nervous, but forget I said that."

"New 'do it is," Travis conceded. "I like it." He reached a hand out and re-fluffed Wes' bangs.

Sighing, and trembling slightly from the touch of Travis' fingers in his hair, Wes decided to just leave them this time. Saying goodbye to his ex-partner, he went in search of his current wayward partner.

Friday arrived in a dramatic way. Wes woke to rain beating on his bedroom window, lightning flashing overhead. "Great," he groaned. "Lovely omen."

Rain or shine, he'd promised Travis he wouldn't change his mind and chicken out at the last minute. As hard as it had been the last couple days, he'd stuck to his promise. So far. Forcing himself to his feet, Wes wandered into the bathroom and began his morning ritual.

Travis was waiting for him outside the station that morning, the rain having petered out, and Wes wasn't sure if he should be impressed or worried. "Marks, our date isn't until seven o'clock, are you here to start early or cancel on me?"

That grin that could melt a statue's heart was pointed in his direction. "Cancel? Hell no. Start early? Oh hell yes." Marks slung an arm across Wes' shoulders and maneuvered him towards the coffee cart. "Actually, I thought we could start your morning off right by allowing me to buy you a cup of coffee."

Wes visibly relaxed. Travis wasn't waiting on him only to disappoint him, nor was he waiting to molest him either, which wasn't nearly as much of a relief. The second half, he could deal with. The first? That would have been more than he could handle. "Happy to hear it," he said, leaning into Travis' solid body. "I was worried that when you actually beat me here, that something bad was about to happen."

Laughing heartily, Travis gave Wes' shoulders a tight hug. "Good point. Now, you ready for tonight?"

That was the question, wasn't it? He'd been both looking forward to and worrying about it since he'd received Travis' text confirming the details Tuesday evening. He was stuck in the precarious position of finally getting what he'd so long dreamed of and was terrified it was all going to fall apart on him. "I'm not sure."

"You're so cute when you're confused," Travis harassed him.

"You're not mad?" Wes pulled away slightly so he could see Travis' face.

"Of course not. Were you a woman, I might be. But this is new for you, so I'm going to cut you a break this time." He shoulder bumped the blond playfully. "But only this time. Date number two, you'd better be positive you're ready."

"Let's take it one date at a time, okay Travis? I might not _want_ another date with you after this." He doubted that, although he couldn't let Marks' ego get the better of them.

"Oh, you'll definitely _want _another date," he said, grinning. "No one goes out on a date with me without wanting a second… or a third."

"Egotistical jerk," Wes laughed.

"Yes, I am, but you still love me," Travis preened.

"Strangely enough, I do," We said. "So, tonight at seven, right?"

Travis nodded. "Right. And no bailing on me, no matter how much you want to. Promise?"

"Promise." He wanted to say more to reassure him that he would be there, but he was having a hard enough time promising himself that he would make it. "I'll be there, Travis."

"You'd better because if you're not? I know where you live." He blew Wes a kiss and headed towards the coffee cart, ordering before he could catch up. After handing over some money, Travis picked up both cardboard cups and walked towards what was quickly becoming 'their' bench.

Wes sat and relieved Travis of one coffee. Sipping, he smiled his approval. "You do listen after all."

"Only to people that matter," he said offhandedly. "I got it right then?"

"Yes, on the nose." Wes took another cautious sip, the hot liquid stinging his tongue. "Thank you."

"Anytime. Especially since I don't get to hang out with you all day anymore."

"What? You can't annoy your new partner," Wes asked.

"Nah, I can," Travis bragged, "he's just not as fun as you are."

Wes wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not, considering Travis' incessant teasing, talking, and general idiocy had a tendency to make him crazy on his best days. He suddenly worried about what a relationship with Travis might be like. If their partnership was always so rocky and frustrating, what would a romantic partnership entail? He couldn't think about that now, however – he'd made a promise and he'd go through with it, even if it killed him.

Which it might.

He was going out with Travis Marks tonight.

God help him.

"You still in there, man?" Travis had his eyes focused on Wes' face, watching. "You went kind of blank for a second."

"Sorry," Wes spluttered, "I started thinking about something and kind of… got lost."

"Picturing me naked again," Travis said, knowingly. "I see how you are."

"What? No! Travis, no, I…" and then suddenly, he realized Travis was yanking his chain, something he was _so _good at. "On second thought, I hate you and I'm cancelling our date."

"No you're not and no you don't," Travis countered, throwing his arm around Wes' slim shoulders, hugging him close. "I'm sorry though. I can't help myself, sometimes you're way too easy to tease."

"Today I am, apparently." His eyes drifted to where Travis fingers curved around his shoulder, his heart stuttering a bit.

"Every day you are," Travis reminded him, giving his shoulder a squeeze. Planting a chaste kiss on Wes' cheek, Travis removed his arm and stood. "I'll see you tonight."

Wes immediately felt the loss of Travis' fingers and mourned it. The slightly damp warmth left by his lips burned into his skin, forever leaving a reminder of that moment. "Right – tonight. Oh, and Marks?"

"Yeah, baby?"

Of all the pet names, he had to be stuck on that one, didn't he? "Don't be late."

"For you? I'll be ten minutes early."

Savoring the coffee Travis had sprung for, Wes watched him walk away. Once his stocky figure was swallowed by the building they both worked inside, Wes sighed. He was half afraid of what tonight was going to bring, and more than half excited that Travis might just give him a real kiss before the night was over.


	6. Breath

_You take the breath right out of me._

_You left a hole where my heart should be._

_You got to fight just to make it through,_

_'cause I will be the death of you._

_This will be all over soon._

_Pour salt into the open wound._

_(Breath – Breaking Benjamin) _

He knew that on a lot of levels even asking Wes out was wrong. They'd been partners, then friends, and then they hardly spoke. They'd been through therapy together and now Wes had come clean about his feelings. Taking him out was only being selfish. And yet, he couldn't find it in him to do anything but take Wes on a date at least once.

Travis also knew – and had been informed without any preamble by Jonelle – that Wes should be allowed to ease into this new dating pool instead of being thrown in, head first, with the likes of him. He got it, he knew he wasn't the kind of man you brought home to meet your parents, but for Wes, he was willing to try.

Praying he didn't screw it all up couldn't hurt either.

Jonelle had given him a list of things not to do – screwing the little blonde senseless had been first on her list. Her predictability had made him grin, but he knew she had a point. That could wait until the second date. However, the line that read 'do _not_, under any circumstances, treat him like any other date you've ever had' kind of grated on his nerves. Sure, they'd gone out once and well, maybe he'd forgotten to call her after, but did that really make him a bad guy? He couldn't ever do that to Wes. Not and survive anyway. The captain would murder him where he stood, for one.

Thinking of the captain rushing him while brandishing an open stapler put a smile on his face. The little guy was tough as a bulldog, that was for sure, and if he did anything to cause his partnership with Wes to permanently end, he had no doubt that Mike Sutton would have his ass for it. And he'd deserve it, too.

"Okay man, time to get with it," he muttered to himself. "Can't be late for your first date or Mitchell will never trust you again."

Climbing into the shower, he scrubbed the day off of his body, preparing for what was to come later. After the intense case he'd been chasing, the hot water felt good – almost cathartic – following the scum he'd been forced to interact with previously. When he stepped out, dripping onto the floor, he felt refreshed and renewed and ready for Wes.

This date had forced him to go shopping for something decent to wear. Jeans and a hoodie weren't going to cut it, not tonight, and never with Wes, so he'd splurged on a pair of slacks and a button-up shirt. He'd almost bought a tie, too, but he figured that not even Wes would expect him to go quite that far. He pulled on the navy dress pants and the pristine white shirt, buttoning and tucking and making himself presentable. Looking at his reflection he had to admit – he cleaned up nicely.

Now, if only Wes felt the same way.

XX

"Hey," Travis called out, seeing Wes walking towards the restaurant, "you came after all."

Wes stopped, waiting for Travis to catch up. "Of course I showed. I made you a promise, remember?"

Oh, he remembered. "And you never break your promises, I know. But this, this is extenuating circumstances and I wouldn't have blamed you for bailing."

The blonde looked out into the night for a moment before refocusing on Travis' face. "I almost did, several times. But, if I'm ever going to get back 'out there' I have to start sometime, right? Starting with someone I know – and know I can trust – has to be easier."

"You would think," Travis agreed. "But, you did choose me and that kind of complicates everything, or so I've been told."

A smile creeped onto the other man's face. "Yeah, I think I might have even said that a time or two. I have experience with your kind of complicated though, so I have an idea of what to expect. Shall we?"

"Of course." Travis opened and held the door as Wes went through, taking in all that was Wes Mitchell on a date.

Wes had changed into a clean suit, this one a silvery grey color that he'd never seen him wear before. It brought out the blue in his eyes, drawing you in immediately. His shirt was a pale purple, something else Travis hadn't ever seen before, and his tie was an old favorite – royal purple silk with a delicate silver pattern crossing it.

"Is this a new suit," he finally asked, curiosity getting the better of him. He thought Wes paled a bit under the soft glow of the restaurant lighting.

"Yes, it is," he answered sheepishly. "I had been eyeing it for a while now and thought maybe our date was an excuse to finally splurge. You like it?"

"I love it," he admitted. "Grey of any shade always looks good on you."

"Thanks, and you look good tonight, too." Travis saw a tinge of pink color his cheeks at this admission. "Actually you look better than good – fabulous might be more appropriate. See what happens when you wear big boy clothes?"

Travis chuckled, elbowing his date. "Starting in on me already, Mitchell? I see how you are."

Before Wes could respond, the hostess spotted them. "Two for dinner?"

"Yes," Travis said, stepping forward. "Reservations under Marks."

XX

Wes followed Travis and the hostess into the restaurant, taking it in as he went. It wasn't the kind of place he was used to eating in, but he knew it was above where Travis usually grabbed his meals from. Soft lighting, real linen on the tables, he nodded his approval at Marks' choice. Maybe this might work out after all?

"After you," Travis said, indicating Wes should sit.

He sat, smoothing his slacks beneath the table. "Thanks," he told the waitress, taking the menu from her and opening it.

"I've been here a couple times before," Travis offered. "But never on a date," he added quickly.

That made Wes laugh. "You don't need to qualify every statement, Travis."

"Maybe not, but I wanted you to know you were special enough that I took you somewhere I'd not taken anyone else."

He appreciated the thought. "Trouble is, Marks, you usually only take your dates back to your place." He'd meant it playfully and prayed it didn't come out sounding like jealousy.

Travis had the good sense to look embarrassed by his proclamation. "True."

"So," Wes began, hoping to deflect his last comment, "who did you come here with?"

A fond smile crossed Travis' face then. "One of my foster moms. It's her favorite restaurant and she rarely gets to enjoy it. I treated her last year for her birthday and again for Mother's Day."

"That's so sweet that I have a hard time believing you thought of it," Wes teased.

"Actually, I didn't. I asked Kate and Amy what I should do and they suggested I take her to dinner. It came to me after that."

While it hadn't been fully his idea, the thought of taking her to a place she enjoyed so much had been, and that made Wes look at him in another light. Ever since he'd drunkenly come out to his partner, Travis had treated him differently, despite not knowing he'd even come out. But he had noticed and now that everything was out in the open, his relationship with Travis had morphed into something he'd never expected: true friendship. Whether they could make it as a couple or not remained to be seen, but one thing was for certain – they'd never go back to hating one another like they had.

"What's good here?" He'd been looking at the menu for some time now and still had no idea what he wanted.

"I'm all about the steak," Travis said, predictably. He was a carnivore in the truest sense of the word: burgers, steaks, chops, and the occasional potato made up the bulk of his diet. "But, my mama? She got me to try this thing called mahi-mahi the last time we were here. It's fabulous." Travis turned his menu around so Wes could see, pointing out the dish.

Wes read the description of the meal, thinking Travis' foster mom had good taste. "Macadamia crusted fish, I can get behind a meal like that, thanks."

Travis smiled again, and this time, it was all for him. "Welcome, and you can thank me by not slapping my hand when I steal a bite off your plate later."

A loud laugh escaped Wes causing him to throw a hand across his mouth to stop it. "Like slapping your hand has ever stopped you from stealing my food?"

"Nope, I'm a man and I need to eat and just because it's on your plate doesn't mean its safe."

"So I've noticed," he said, laying his menu down.

"Anything else? A beer or a glass of wine? An appetizer maybe?" Travis looked at the menu again, browsing. "You're going to laugh at me, but their parmesan crusted green beans are amazing."

"Wow, Marks, I'm impressed. Letting a vegetable – and a green one at that – into your diet is a big step."

"Don't flatter yourself – they're coated in cheese and fried." Travis bumped his foot against Wes' leg under the table. "But they really are tasty."

"Okay," Wes surrendered. "We'll go with that."

The waitress arrived and they placed their orders. Wes went with Travis' suggestion and Travis, understandably, went with a Delmonico. Requesting a microbrew for himself , Travis surprised Wes by ordering a fruity white wine for him.

"Nice choice," Wes said, sipping the wine. "I had no idea you knew anything about pairing wine and food."

"I don't," he confessed, "but the menu suggests wines for each entrée. I went with the one I thought I could pronounce well enough not to embarrass you."

"Well, you did a good job," Wes said, lifting his glass in a salute. "We'll just not tell anyone you read it on the menu, okay?"

"Deal," Travis agreed, lifting his mug in Wes' direction before taking another drink.

The conversation flowed while they waited for their food to arrive, which relieved Wes' anxiety greatly. He'd been worried that they'd have nothing to discuss since they were no longer partners. Thankfully, that turned out to be untrue. Travis discussed his new partner – some guy Wes hadn't ever met named Johansson – and the bizarre robbery they were working. Wes was about to comment on something Travis had said when their appetizer arrived.

"I have to admit, these things do look pretty good," he said, lifting one to his mouth. Taking a bite, he looked at Travis while he chewed. "Okay, and they taste amazing. I need to trust your tastes more," he teased.

"Yeah man, I'm like the king of good food," he bragged.

"I don't know about that. You do like that hot dog cart near the station." He gave a mock shudder.

"Yeah, well," Travis said, avoiding eye contact, "I only went there for the girl working the cart."

"Hah!" Wes rubbed his hands together, grinning. "I knew it. And you swore it had nothing to do with her either, you liar."

Travis shook his head, busted by his partner. "Okay, okay, so I admit now. You're right though, their food sucked."

"You owe me another dinner just to make up for all the times you forced me to eat that crap so you could hit on her."

"Oh, I do? Does this mean you're already asking for a second date? Wesley Mitchell, I had no idea you moved so fast, you dog."

"I – I did no such thing! I just said –"

"Chill baby," Travis said through his own laughter. "I'm just teasing you. Besides, I could still screw everything up between now and the end of the night."

"Sometimes, I really do hate you," Wes growled. "But not tonight. Tonight, I think I like you."

It was a huge admission for him, one he was appalled he actually made, but as the words left his mouth, he found them to be true. Something had changed not just in the way Travis treated him but in the way he _viewed_ him as well. Travis wasn't the only one who was changing either. Although Wes had been attracted to his partner for longer than he'd admit, those feelings had slowly been evolving. What had started as a desire to be physically near the man had morphed into a need to be with him, talking to him, simply _being_.

And that scared him. As far as he could tell, he'd never been in love. He thought he had been with Alex, but he'd been so very wrong. Was that what he was feeling and, if it was, how would he ever really know? The last thing he wanted was another messy divorce like the one he'd gone through a year and a half ago. He wasn't sure if he could handle losing Travis in the way he'd lost his ex-wife. Pushing the thoughts aside to deal with later, when he was alone – and quite possibly sloshed – he tried to enjoy his meal and not let his anxiety ruin the nice time they'd been having.

XX

He couldn't take his eyes off of Wes on the other side of the table. His blue eyes sparkled with amusement, his perfect mouth was turned up in a smile, those adorable dimples front and center. Their entrées had arrived and so far, things had been going good. Really good, to be honest, and Travis was half impressed, half terrified by that fact.

Reaching his fork across the table, Travis snuck a corner off Wes' mahi-mahi. "Mmm," he murmured. "Just as good as I remember."

"Get your fork out of my food, you heathen," Wes threatened, the smile betraying his warning. Lifting his own fork, he reached across and stole a bite of Travis' mashed potatoes. "Oh god, those are probably the best potatoes I've ever had."

"White cheddar garlic mash," he said proudly, as if he'd made them himself.

"Delicious," Wes said, hijacking another forkful.

_Almost as delicious as you_, Travis thought. It wasn't going to be like that between them, however. Not tonight and probably not for a very long time to come, either. He knew this instinctively and he'd come to terms with it. "Slow down, take your time," was the advice his foster mother, Maria, had given him. If he's special, you can wait."

Travis was determined to wait. Wes was more than just another date or even just another lover. He wanted his partner back more than he wanted the blond to be his boyfriend.

"What are you thinking so hard about over there," Wes said, breaking into his reverie.

"Huh?" Travis looked around, sheepish at being caught daydreaming. "Oh, trying to decide what dessert I'm going to talk you into is all."

"Dessert?" Wes groaned and rubbed his belly. "Not sure if there's going to be any place left to put it."

"Oh don't give me that," Travis teased, eying the long length of Wes' torso. "You've got the flattest damn stomach I've ever seen. You can spare a little room."

Judging by the shocked look on Wes' face, Travis had surprised him. "You been sneaking peeks in the locker room, Marks?"

_Only every chance I get_. "Naw, not sneaking peeks, more like uh… appreciating what's before me." He laughed at how absurd it all sounded. "Not like I get to see you change all that much yanno."

A blush crept up Wes' neck and settled in his cheeks, giving his naturally fair skin a touch of color. "I – I don't even know what to say."

"Don't say anything, just know that I appreciate what's under that suit, baby." Something occurred to him suddenly. "Unless my teasing bothers you then definitely tell me to stuff it."

Wes' cheeks darkened even further. _What did he say to cause that reaction?_

"I – I, uh – I would tell you to stuff it, Marks, but you'd take it the wrong way. And well, this is a nice place, I'd hate to get thrown out on my ear and banned for life."

A sharp burst of laughter erupted from Travis, garnering looks from the tables around them. "I think I'm starting to rub off on you," he joked.

"I think you might be right," Wes agreed.

"Thinking of dessert, are we?" The waitress had appeared out of nowhere, smiling and brandishing two smaller menus.

"Actually, we were," Wes said, taking a menu from her and perusing it. "Weren't we, Travis?"

_If you only knew, baby._ "Yes, we were. What do you recommend?"

While the waitress rattled off her favorite desserts and probably one or two the restaurant was currently pushing, Travis watched Wes with a new insight. That last crack, while completely in line with the way the blond normally thought, was still a bit of a surprise to actually hear. It was a slow process, but it seemed as if Mitchell was finally starting to loosen up a bit. He liked this new attitude on him, it was exceedingly sexy.

"Travis?"

He started, ashamed he'd been caught yet again. "Sorry. I was thinking again. What did you say?"

A sly grin spread across Wes' face. "Thinking's that difficult for you? I'd have never guessed. I was asking what you thought about the crème brulee?"

He wanted to be angry about the first half of that comment but he knew he deserved it and let it slide. The last half, however. "You might think I'm a peasant but I can't stand crème brulee, man. I don't know why either, I just don't."

Wes shrugged, looking back at the menu. "What would you suggest instead?"

Thankfully, he didn't sound offended. "I highly recommend the cobbler."

"Cobbler?" Wes lifted an eyebrow in askance. "It says 'seasonal'. What fruit do they have tonight?"

_Besides us?_ "I'll have to ask, but more than likely apple or pear, both of which are divine," he assured him.

After confirmation that the cobbler was indeed a brown butter and caramel pear concoction, they settled on that, a la mode, of course. The night was winding down and Wes was beginning to get nervous. They had both agreed that for their first date they'd do dinner only, just in case things went sideways. He'd have felt awful if they hadn't been able to get through dinner and Travis had spent more money on something more that wasn't going to happen.

Dinner had been good, however. It had gone much better than he'd expected and truly had been one of the better dates he'd ever been on. He suspected that it was partly because he was finally dating the right sex, but mostly, he was beginning to believe it was simply Travis making it so successful. The boy had a way with conversation.

"Oh god," Travis groaned, shoveling a spoonful of cobbler into his mouth. "This is even tastier than I remember.

Wes' heart skipped a beat when Travis' tongue flicked out to capture a bit of caramel that had clung to his lip. "Is it? I'm going to have to try a bit of that, I think." _Oh god, what are you doing to yourself?_ He dipped his spoon into the steaming crock and savored the bite. Sweet, buttery, and sinful – all words he could use to describe the man across the table from him, if he so desired. "Amazing."

"You need to try the ice cream, too," Travis said, pointing with his spoon. "They make it fresh daily."

Taking his advice, Wes sliced through the ice cream with his spoon, stealing a bit of whipped cream along the way. Closing his eyes, he reveled in the pure vanilla flavor melting on his tongue. "That is worth the trip here by itself," he admitted.

"Naw, you were what was worth the trip, Wes."

"I'm glad you convinced me to do this, Travis."

XX

They stood by Wes' car, chatting and working up the nerve to say goodnight. Neither wanted to be the first to say it although they both knew it was coming.

"I guess I should get going," Wes said, unsure of how true that was.

"Only if you have to," Travis said.

"I don't want to, tonight has been wonderful, but I have this huge case file –"

" – just sitting at home demanding to be attended to."

"Right. Does that make me pathetic?" Wes looked away from Travis' piercing gaze.

"No, because if it makes you pathetic, it makes me just as pathetic because I have one calling my name, too."

"I guess this really is goodnight then."

"It is, but it's not good-bye. We'll do this again, soon, I hope." Travis moved so that he was standing facing his date.

Wes could only nod, his voice suddenly fleeing his body.

Travis leaned in, tilting Wes' chin up towards him. "Goodnight, Wes," he breathed before pressing his lips to the blond's.

It didn't last nearly long enough for Wes, just a brief moment of warmth against his mouth and then it was gone again, Travis pulling away. "Good night, Travis."

He caressed the curve of Wes' jaw, lightly tracing his thumb across Wes' plump, pink lips. And then he was gone.


	7. The Fighter Still Remains

_In the clearing stands a boxer__  
__And a fighter by his trade__  
__And he carries the reminders__  
__Of ev'ry glove that layed him down__  
__Or cut him till he cried out__  
__In his anger and his shame__  
__"I am leaving, I am leaving"__  
__But the fighter still remains_

_(The Boxer – Simon & Garfunkel) _

"It's been two months," Travis said without preamble.

"And?" Wes had just arrived and hadn't quite switched into work mode yet.

"And four dates," he added, not clarifying anything.

That it had been. Two wonderful months and four glorious, well-planned dates. Dinner, a movie, a concert in the park… Travis kept coming up with new and interesting ideas and Wes hated to admit it, but he was even more smitten with the man now than he'd ever been. "While all that's true, I still have no clue what you're getting at."

Travis settled in what had been his desk for years, propping his feet on the desktop, just like old times. "What I'm getting at is that I think it's time we went back to being partners again. I've proven that I'm not going to cut and run which, honestly, surprises even me. And you don't hate me anymore now than you did before."

"I actually hate you less, although you're pushing it right now, Marks." Wes hadn't been expecting this, not yet anyway. He fiddled with the pen he'd been holding, stalling for time. "I'm not sure I'm ready for that yet."

Travis pushed his foot against the floor, sending his wheeled chair out from behind his desk. Rolling until he was within arm's reach of his now-boyfriend, Travis blocked the blond in, cutting off his escape route. "Wes man, why not? I thought we were good."

"We are good," he admitted. "The last couple months have been wonderful and you're good company, believe it or not…"

"But?" Travis hadn't budged an inch and it didn't look like he was going to either.

"But where are we going with this? Although the captain is on board with us being, well, _us_, the powers-that-be might feel differently and split us up anyway. What then? What do we do," he swallowed hard, his sudden fear lodging in his throat, "if they send one of us somewhere else?"

The look of horror on Travis' face said that the thought hadn't crossed his mind. He knew they could both live with not being partners, they'd been managing that for quite some time now, but could either of them cope with not seeing the other first thing each and every morning? Wes knew that'd be a deal breaker for him. He needed that bright flash of brilliant smile in order to get through the day. A good morning from the one and only Travis Marks was better than any cup of Joe.

"I wouldn't like that," he admitted, "and I don't know what I'd do, either. Show up on your damn doorstep every night probably."

He knew he wasn't joking either, but it still lessened the worry he'd been carrying. "You're nuts, but I like it."

Travis grinned. "I know you do, baby." He waggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner, making Wes squirm. "Can't we at least try it again and if someone tries to break us up later, we'll just deal with it then. What do you say?"

"I don't know, Travis…" He let his thought trail off, Travis' exuberant expectation beginning to rub off on him. Being forced to partner with someone else was a big enough of a deterrent, but was it worth risking? "I'm afraid of losing everything we've worked so hard to rebuild."

Reaching a hand out, his fingers brushed Wes' forearm, comforting. "Baby, we might not lose anything. But we gotta try if we're ever gonna know."

He had a point, a valid one at that. Sighing, he met Travis' eager gaze. The anticipation and hope he saw within it gave him the courage to go against his better judgment. "Okay, Marks. Let's do this. But if we –"

"No buts," Travis interrupted, "because we're not going to fail. Got it?"

Wes nodded. "Got it."

"Good," he said, giving Wes' arm one last squeeze before rolling away again. "Hey Cap, guess who is back in action?"

"Marks, there's paperwork for these things, get it filled out," the captain called from his office doorway, unconcerned.

"Aye, aye," he laughed, giving a half-hearted salute. "I'll get Mitchell right on it."

"And some things never change," Wes muttered, wondering just how much paperwork he'd need to complete before he could date his partner.

XX

Mitchell and Marks were back in action.

The robbery homicide division of the Los Angeles Police Department couldn't have been more appreciative. Alone, they were two exceptional detectives, but together they were a force to be reckoned with. All was right with the world again.

Mostly.

Wes shuddered at Travis' touch on the back of his neck. "Could you please not do that while we're working," Wes whimpered.

"Aw, but baby, we're at lunch. I can't flirt with you on break?" Travis pushed his lower lip out, pouting in an adorable yet sexy manner.

That patented look sent a jolt of electricity straight to Wes' groin. Groaning inwardly, he gave his partner a grim look. "No you cannot."

He removed his fingers from beneath Wes' collar and placed them on the table. "Why not?"

"Because it's inappropriate," he lied. Truth being, it was more of a distraction than anything. They'd been dating now for nearly three months and hadn't yet had _that_ discussion yet. If Travis left it up to Wes, they might never have it, no matter how desperate he was for a bit of action. "And maybe a little distracting, too."

Travis visibly preened at the idea he was a distraction to the most focused detective in the county. "Okay, I'll keep my hands to myself, but no promises, baby doll. You are rather irresistible."

Pressing his lips together, Wes fought the combination of embarrassment and pleasure he felt stirring in his gut. "Uh, thanks. I think. You about finished with that so we can, you know, maybe get back to work?"

Again, Travis grinned, shoving a couple fries into his mouth. "Sure thing, detective. _Anything_ you want."

It was going to be a long afternoon, he was afraid.

XX

The two detectives sat cuddled on Wes' couch, Travis with his back to the arm, Wes resting against his partner's chest. Travis toyed with the whorls of blond hair beneath his fingers, reveling in the feel of the silky strands. Wes needed a haircut, he'd noticed, but he wasn't going to say a word. It looked good a little longer like this, just long enough that the ends began to curl. "This is nice," he said instead.

"Yeah, it is," Wes agreed, snuggling back into Travis' embrace. "You need to come around more often."

His breath caught in his chest. That Wes had invited him over in the first place had been a shock. Now he wanted him to come around more often? This was an unexpected development. It wasn't any hardship either, Wes was a joy to be around, even in his grumpier moods. He'd found out early on how easy it was to ease that irritability. Playing a bit of jazz, turning the lights down, and forcing him to cuddle was all it took to make Wes into a new man.

The more time he spent alone with Wes like this, the more he wanted it to become something else, something more intimate. They hadn't discussed the sex option yet and Travis wasn't sure how to broach the subject. Wes was still exploring his newly acquired sexuality – or at least, his newly accepted sexuality – and pushing him too hard, too fast, would only end in disaster.

"Travis?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"You don't want to come around more often?" Wes' voice filled with something too near hurt to accept.

"Of course I do, why wouldn't I?" He'd taken too long to respond, he knew that now, but he hadn't meant to.

"You didn't respond." His voice was small and quiet and defeated. His muscles tensed as if preparing to flee with Travis' next words.

"I was…" How did he say this without freaking blondie out? "Well, I guess I was thinking about what I hope might happen if I do start coming around more often."

"Oh." Wes went silent then and it worried Travis.

"I know we haven't talked about this yet, and that's cool. I'm ready when you're ready, and I have no problem waiting, baby, I promise."

He could feel the tension leave Wes' body, easing back into his embrace, still uncertain, but not as afraid as before. "It could be awhile," he said.

"I know," Travis assured him, pulling him into the warmth and safety of his embrace. Placing a kiss on his boyfriend's cheek, he added, "And I'm willing to stick around until you are. No strings, no excuses."

"I think that I can work with that, Travis," Wes whispered.

XX

On what would be the five month anniversary of their first date, Wes found himself nervous. He'd made Travis promise not to do anything stupid, embarrassing or humiliating, but he feared that had all fallen on deaf ears. When Travis Marks wanted something, he made sure it happened.

Which would explain Wes' sudden edginess.

He had to confess, he was torn. That Travis would go out of his way and do something special for Wes on what he considered a minor anniversary was flattering. On the other hand, he didn't want him to go out of his way, either. To spend money or time doing something when he still wasn't even sure they were going to make it long-term. Did he want to? Of course, but it was still rather up in the air at the moment.

"Morning, detective," Kate called as he passed her in the hall. "Got any big plans for tonight?"

Wes stopped mid-stride. "What do you mean by that, Kate?"

"Oh, nothing," the blonde tossed out, flashing a smile and wandering off.

"I don't believe that," he shouted after her, followed shortly by her laughter.

Shaking his head, he continued on to the break room. Kate's comment did have him wondering, however. Had Travis told her something? Asked her opinion? Considering his partner's track record in the department, he doubted any of the women would actually help him get a date. But if it was for him and their almost-half-a-year anniversary? Would she help then?

"If you keep thinking along those lines," he muttered, "your head's going to explode."

"And it won't be pretty, I can guarantee you that," Jonelle said from behind him.

"What? Oh, yeah, I think you'd be the expert on that," he said. "Morning, Jonelle."

"Morning, Wes. You look a bit off this morning. You okay?" She tilted her head and gave him a thorough once-over, appraising and nodding her approval.

"Yeah," he half-lied. "Got a lot on my mind and I'm worried Travis is going to do something stupid."

Jonelle laughed, loud and happy. "Oh, I wouldn't worry if I were you, that _never_ happens, does it?"

"No," Wes agreed, chuckling, "it doesn't. " She fell into step next to him as he continued his quest for less than stellar coffee. "You up from the bowels of the building for a reason?"

She spent most of her time down in the morgue, doing all the bizarre things that a medical examiner did. If she needed you, you came to her and you did not complain about it, ever. It was for the best this way, but it also meant he only saw her when she had news – good or bad – for him and Travis.

"A little birdie told me you're dating Travis now." She waved to a passing detective before turning her attention back on him. "Please tell me this isn't true. I thought you were smarter than this, Wes."

He started to deny it then changed his mind, opting for the truth. "It is, Jonelle. For five months now."

The medical examiner's face showed genuine surprise. "_Five_ months? And he's not in a bag on a gurney in my office? Wow."

"Hey now," Wes laughed, picturing the scene all too clearly, "he's actually making an effort."

"Meaning he calls you after he sleeps with you?" She lifted a carefully manicured eyebrow in question.

"I, uh, well…" His voice faded out, unsure how to explain to this woman how he and his partner, who was more than just a little virile, hadn't quite made it to that point in their relationship yet.

She saved him the trouble. "Oh my god, Wes! You haven't slept together yet, have you?" Placing a hand on his shoulder, she gazed into his eyes, searching for any hint he was yanking her chain. Finding none, she said, "This has got to be a record of some sort."

"It's quite possible," he agreed. "Jonelle, can you please stop looking at me like that." Because it was beginning to unnerve him, that smile that was boring into his soul, searching for his darkest secrets.

"You want to though, don't you?"

When she was as close to him as she was now, it was hard not to notice what a pretty woman she was. Dark hair, dark skinned, full lips. The kind of woman he might be attracted to if he were even remotely attracted to women. "Why do I suddenly feel embarrassed?"

Jonelle pulled back, watching. "Embarrassed? Why? For being human – for being _male_?" She made a disgusted sound. "He's handsome, Wes. He's also got great abs and an ass worth writing home about. No, there's nothing to be ashamed of there. Hell, I've even slept with him so it's not like I can say a damn thing, can I?" She shook her head. "No reason to ever let your desires make you feel guilty. If you want him, tell him. I'm sure he'll be happy to oblige."

Wes felt the heat filling his belly. He did want Travis, in a needy, desperate way, but he was afraid. "I've never done this before," he confessed. "At least, not with a man."

"Well, you're in luck because Travis has done it _all_, or so he likes to tell his dates. Give it time, take it slow, and you'll be fine. Okay?"

"Okay. And thanks, Jonelle. Didn't mean to drag you into this so early in the morning."

"Don't worry about it," she said. "Oh, and don't get me wrong about Travis, either. He's a good guy, Wes, but he's charming as hell, so just be careful what you let him talk you into. Okay?"

That sounded ominous. "Okay, Jonelle. And I owe you."

"You know you do," she teased, winking and walking towards the elevator.

XX

He'd done the best he could considering Wes' implied restrictions. _Don't go overboard. Don't spend a lot of money. Don't you dare embarrass me._ Travis thought he'd gone above and beyond and still stayed within what his boyfriend might consider conservative. Only time would tell whether Wes felt the same way or not.

Earlier, he'd stopped by the coffee shop on the corner, the one that carried the fancy pastries Wes liked so much, picked out his favorite – a blackberry and sage Danish – and left it on the blond's desk. With a Sharpie marker, he scrawled a simple little good morning note and waited for his better half to arrive. When Wes arrived, he glanced at the bag, then inside it briefly, before closing the bag and coming to stand before his partner.

"Thank you," he whispered, placing a fleeting kiss on his dark cheek.

That kiss alone held Travis all day long.

Several hours later, they broke ranks and went their separate ways long enough to change and reconvene at Wes' hotel on the premise of going to dinner. Travis had made other plans instead. He knew it was a bit sneaky and underhanded, but he had the inspiration to bring dinner to Wes as opposed to taking Wes to dinner. In keeping them both cozied up together, he thought maybe, hopefully, that tonight might end up being _the night_. And if not, there was always Netflix. He was cool with it either way.

Taking a deep breath, Travis shifted dinner – and dessert – into his other arm and knocked. The spicy scent of Thai food wafted to his nose, provoking an angry rumble from his empty stomach. Because it's just what he needed on top of his already butterfly-filled gut.

"Travis? What are you doing here – and what do I smell?" Wes stepped back from the door, allowing Travis to pass through and into his makeshift home.

"I thought that maybe we could stay in, have a little Thai, and snuggle." He gave his boyfriend a suggestive eye waggle and a smile.

"You are incorrigible, but I'm thankful for once. This week has worn me out and I was kind of dreading going back out." He took the bag of food from Travis' hands and carried it into the kitchen. Removing containers from the bag, he looked at the labels, nodding his approval of each of Travis' selections. "You covered every base as far as Thai food goes, but I love them all. Nice work, detective."

Travis couldn't repress his pride. "I made note of what you ate and the things that you said sounded good the last time we had this for lunch. Would hate to screw up dinner this late in the game. I also grabbed some baklava from the bakery next to the Thai place. Not quite the same cuisine but…"

"…but I love baklava."

"I know you do," he grinned. "Do I get a kiss for being so thoughtful?"

"Of course you do," Wes said, moving closer.

Travis took Wes' face in his hands, studying his fair skin and expectant blue eyes. He tilted his head a touch to the left and moved in, pressing warm skin against warm skin. Wes sighed, parting his lips in invitation. Always one to accept an invite, Travis slid his tongue inside, grazing Wes' teeth before tangling with the eager blond, dueling for dominance. It was the first battle he'd ever willingly lose.

Pulling away, Wes' breath came fast. "Travis, I – I think maybe – dinner?"

Unwilling to let the moment end, Travis grasped Wes by the wrists and pulled him closer, back to where he'd been moments ago. He attacked his partner's mouth a second time, biting at his bottom lip before releasing him again. "Okay," he agreed, "now we can eat."

Maybe he should've felt guilty for taking advantage and maybe he should have been the tiniest bit ashamed of being so damn persistent. And maybe, just maybe, if Wes hadn't responded so eagerly, he might have even been. _Maybe_.

XX

He'd wound up pinned to the couch by some odd twist of fate, one he blamed on being half Travis' size and not nearly as skilled in the art of erotic wrestling. Wes wasn't complaining. The solid, comforting weight of his partner's body sprawled on top of his only brought him feelings of extreme delight.

And maybe just a tiny bit of fear. But he was ignoring the fear, pretending it didn't exist. He would deal with that later, probably when it was too late to do anything about it.

One large, heated palm gripped the back of his neck, holding him close, fingers teasing at his hairline. The other skimmed the length of his chest to his stomach and back upwards again, a continuing circuit of fiery temptation. He felt trapped and yet, all he could ask for was more. Wes twisted Travis' loose Henley in his fingers, fighting the urge to freak out and forcing himself to focus on the pleasure of the moment. Travis had proven he could be loyal, faithful even. _Relax_.

His fingers wound their way into Travis' hair, skimming through it at first, then entwining in it when the kisses deepened. With every touch, the body crushing him into the cushions became more demanding, more anxious, needier than it had ever been.

Tearing his mouth from Travis' became the most difficult thing he'd ever done. Made passing the California Bar or acing his detective's exam almost trivial in nature. "Trav," he gasped, mouth hanging open, lips aching for just one more kiss.

"Wes," he murmured, "baby…" He turned his kisses onto Wes' chin, then neck, nuzzling into any piece of available skin.

Wes shuddered, the rasp of Travis' unshaven skin sending tremors through his body. "I – I think I'm ready."


	8. Soul Meets Body

_And I cannot guess what we'll discover_

_When we turn the dirt with our palms cupped like shovels_

_But I know our filthy hands can wash one another's_

_And not one speck will remain_

_(Soul Meets Body – Death Cab for Cutie)_

_Did Wes just say he was ready? _Travis' mind whirled, a million explanations for what he meant crowding forward, begging to be heard. He couldn't possibly mean… no, he had to mean something more mundane. _Don't push your luck, Marks._ "Ready for what, baby? Dessert?"

A nervous chuckle filled the space between them. "Is that what the kids are calling it these days," Wes joked. He laid a palm flat against Travis' chest, gathering his words. "No, not dessert, not yet."

The ache that had been steadily growing in his cock all night reached a pinnacle with that confirmation. "Wes, you sure you…"

"Yes," he whispered, arching up and capturing Travis' mouth with his own. "I'm positive."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Travis teased, kissing Wes, pushing him back onto the couch. "I've been waiting for you to be ready for so long."

"I'm sorry," Wes mumbled.

"Hey," Travis said, turning Wes' face so he could look him in the eye. "No apologies, not for this. You got me? I promised I wouldn't push and as hard as it's been – although not nearly as hard as _it_ is right now, if you get me – it's been worth it. I've never taken much time in my relationships before."

"Thank you, for understanding and… taking your time with me. It means everything." He tilted his lips upwards, silently asking for a kiss.

Travis obliged him, moving slowly, brushing skin against skin, tongue against tongue, until he couldn't do it any longer. "Baby, want to move this party somewhere else?"

"What?" Wes laughed his nerves on overload it seemed. "You're not going to take me here on the couch?"

"As much as I'd like to," and god love him, he _was_ tempted to strip him right there and make him scream, "I think you deserve a little better than that tonight."

"Maybe tomorrow then?"

Cheeky little tease. "Oh, tomorrow, all bets are off." He pushed himself back onto his heels so that he was mostly sitting. Stretching a hand out to his soon-to-be lover, he said, "Come on, Wes. I promise I won't bite – unless you're into that."

Travis bet he was. Wes was tenacious, once he dug his teeth into something – a case, an argument – he didn't let go until it was settled. He figured he was the same way in the sack and, if you bit him, he'd bite your ass right back. Hard, too.

"Can't really say what I'm into yet," he replied, "although I'm eager to find out."

"That makes two of us." He pulled Wes upright and slid off the couch.

Wes took his hand and led him into his bedroom.

xx

_What am I doing, oh god, why did I agree to this…_ Wes swallowed his fear the best he could, considering what he was about to do. He wasn't sure why he should be so afraid, it's not like Travis seemed to be all that discerning when it came to his sexual partners, and yet, he was terrified all the same. Maybe that was the reason even – because Travis had so much more experience in everything than he did. His fingers worked at his belt buckle, too nervous to pull the leather through the metal.

"Wait," Travis stopped him with a touch of his fingers, "let me. I want to do this."

He forced his fingers away from his belt buckle, unsure of what was coming next. Travis stepped closer, tugging at the navy dress shirt tucked neatly into Wes' waistband. The tails sprang free and Wes smoothed them down, not knowing what else to do with his hands. Dark fingers worked at the ivory buttons, popping each one in easy succession like he'd done it a million times before – and probably had. The shirt fell open, exposing a long swath of skin to Travis' gaze.

"It's been awhile since I've seen you this undressed," Travis murmured, skimming his fingertips along the visible flesh. "Looks like you've been working out, you've got abs, man."

Wes looked away, embarrassed. "I've been… frustrated, to say the least. The gym has been my only outlet. I'm glad you approve."

Travis looked at him, a hungry expression painted over his features. "Oh, I more than approve, Wes. You look good enough to eat."

_Oh dear lord, stop teasing me._ "Does that make me dessert?"

"You've always been dessert," he answered, biting his lower lip. "Sweet, creamy, delicious white chocolate."

He supposed he ought to be thankful he hadn't called him _vanilla._ "Tonight, I will be whatever you want me to be."

Travis slipped the shirt off Wes' shoulders and down his arms, tossing it to the floor somewhere unseen. He traced the lines of muscle lacing the blond's chest with his fingers, noting every dip and curve along the way. The light sprinkling of golden hair across his skin was ruffled and teased by his questing fingers, causing something to stir deep within Wes.

"Travis," he gasped, "please, stop touching me like that."

"Why? Don't you like it?" Travis studied him, one part confused, one part amused, if he read that look correctly.

"I – I do like it. I think I like it too much, actually and I'm –" Another brush of Travis' fingers cut off his ability to think.

"Afraid you're going to embarrass yourself," he teased, gently. "Don't worry about that, we've got all night, don't we?"

Oh, that they did. Even so, if Travis kept teasing him like this, little feather-light caresses that never fully landed on his skin, he was going to lose control and soon. Embarrassing himself was putting it mildly. _Humiliating_ himself was probably closer to the truth. "The rest of the night will be awfully boring if I lose it right now."

Lips pressed against his bare collar bone, teeth nipping lightly. "You obviously haven't talked to any of my other lovers," he teased. "You lose it now and we just get to work you back up, over and over again."

This was not helping. "No, Travis, I haven't exactly made it a habit to interview all of your past conquests." Another nip, this time to that area right behind his left ear. "Jonelle aside."

He pulled back at that tidbit of information. "You been comparing notes with Jonelle?"

"No," he hedged, "but asking advice, yes." Travis laughed at that, probably figuring Wes wouldn't ever ask anyone advice about anything. Under normal circumstances, he'd be right. Then again these weren't exactly normal circumstances, either.

"You're lucky I like you so much," he said, kissing Wes' mouth at long last.

"You like me?" He tilted his head, smirking. "Prove it."

xx

Travis took that as a challenge. He pushed Wes backwards onto the neatly made bed. Blondie fell with a _whump_ onto the thick comforter, a surprised gasp escaping upon landing on his back. Wes scooted until he was in the middle of the large mattress, watching him with curious, eager eyes. Using skilled fingers, Travis made quick work of his partner's belt, followed by his pants. Both landed in a heap on the floor somewhere in the vicinity of his discarded shirt.

"Gotta admit," he said, raking his eyes over Wes' mostly naked body, "the less clothing, the better you look. Although, I do like these silk boxers, baby."

"I wore them hoping you might see them," he admitted, blushing.

_Damn_. He hadn't expected that – that Wes would dress just for him or that he had been hoping this would happen before this moment. He palmed his aching cock through the front of his jeans, accentuating the growing bulge for Wes' benefit. "As you can see, your thoughtfulness is appreciated."

Watching Wes' eyes fall to his groin only fueled Travis' desire. Those lustrous baby blues widened and his nostrils flared, taking in what Travis had to offer him. His breaths were shallow, a bit labored, and Travis knew that he hadn't been exaggerating earlier – he was close. _Change of plans_, he thought. Straddling Wes' body on the bed, he brushed the blond's stiff cock with a hand, testing the waters.

Freeing Wes' erection from his glorious boxers, Travis stroked the length of him, reveling in the feel of his enthusiasm. "So damn hard, baby," he breathed. "You've been thinking about me all day, haven't you?"

Shyly, Wes nodded, arching his hips in Travis' direction. "You. And this, too."

Travis released his grip on Wes' cock, getting an angry cry in response. "Give me a second, Wes, and I'll give you something better than my hand."

"Just. Hurry," he begged.

Never one to leave a lover wanting, he dipped his head down, taking the length of Wes into his mouth. A strangled sound escaped his lover's throat, only serving to encourage Travis' bad behavior. Drawing back he tongued the underside of his cockhead, tasting the sharp saltiness of sweat and spunk. Wes jerked his hips, whimpering as Travis continued to minister to his cock.

"I – I can't – Travis…"

Travis took him deep one last time before releasing him. "Shush."

xx

"But –"Wes started to protest, the wet heat of Travis' mouth around his cock stalling it mid-thought. His lover's dark fingers cupped his ass, squeezing and kneading.

He knew what Travis was trying to do – to make him come, now, so he wasn't disappointed once the real action started, but he couldn't bring himself to be okay with that. Wisely, he also knew that if Marks kept at him with that damn limber tongue of his, he wasn't going to have much of a choice in the matter.

"Fuck," he shouted, clamping his lips shut two seconds too late.

"Mmhmm," Travis moaned around his mouthful, sucking harder.

Wes squeezed his eyes closed, praying for some humility in all this, but desperately wanting some kind of relief he didn't administer with his own two hands. Plus, it felt so damn good, that to make him stop would be foolish. Travis' fingers tightened on his ass cheeks, lifting his hips upward and forcing his cock as deep into his lover's throat as it could go. "Damnit," he growled, struggling against Travis' grip on him.

xx

Travis refused to be deterred. He allowed Wes to fuck his mouth like a teenager in heat, loving every lusty second of it. The boy was so close, he could taste it and, despite blondie's protests, there was no way he was stopping now to screw him. No, this was so much more fun.

Wes' fingers tangled in his hair, pulling and releasing in time to his hip thrusts. He rocked forward once then again, faster, groaning Travis' name. "Oh, god," he cried, thrusting his groin against Travis' face, holding it there with the aid of two helpful hands.

Feeling the first hot splashes hit the back of his throat, Travis grunted his encouragement. Pulling him closer, swallowing down his come like it was a delicacy. In a way it was – it was his first taste of his new lover, a new experience for both of them. Wes' first experience with a man and his first time in a committed relationship.

Who'd have ever thought it would happen?

Wes' movements slowed, then stopped, his hips dropping heavily to the mattress beneath him. A weary sigh escaped him next, eyes fluttering closed. "Damn," he said. "Just… damn."

Kissing the inside of one pale thigh, Travis grinned. "You're welcome." Maneuvering so that he lay at Wes' side, Travis rested his head on the blond's chest, breathing in the scent of his body, rejoicing in the heat rolling off his skin. "You're also really very comfortable."

His body stiffened under Travis' touch. When he was about to ask what he'd done wrong, Wes laughed, a panicky, stuttering sound. "Good god, Travis, why did you let me do that?"

"Let you? I'd like to think I _made you_ do that," he said, relieved that Wes wasn't angry with him. "You have any idea how hot you are, bucking into my mouth like that?" A shiver of anticipation crawled up his spine. "I can't wait to see how damn hot you're going to look later when you're squirming beneath me."

xx

Travis thought he was hot? Well, of course, he knew Marks was attracted to him, it only made sense since they were a couple now, but he didn't expect it went past that. The way his boyfriend was currently looking at him gave him the courage to believe otherwise. With those crystalline blue eyes fixed on his lean body, Wes stretched his arms towards the headboard, arching his chest into the broad, muscular body beside him.

"You trying to tell me something, baby?" Travis eyes traveled the span of his body, from nose to toes and every point in-between.

"Not me," he lied, pointing his toes and exhibiting the wiry muscles of his legs for his partner's benefit.

"I think you're lying," he countered, pressing close against Wes' side, slanting in for a languid kiss. "Your eager cock's giving you away."

Wes looked down his chest to his traitorous body part and laughed. "What can I say? He likes you."

Travis pushed him flat onto the mattress before straddling his waist. "He does, does he? Have you two been discussing me when I'm not around?"

"Well," he stalled, face flushing, "we don't _talk_ about you, but we do uh, _think _about you. Often." _And now that I've completely humiliated myself…_

His honesty was rewarded with another leisurely kiss, lips parting and tongues melding in pure bliss. Wes exhaled his desire into Travis' mouth, begging with his body for something other than one more kiss. Even if his partner denied him what he so desperately wanted tonight, he wouldn't be angry or hurt. After this, he could wait a little while longer, if he had to.

Shifting off his body, Travis put a kiss on his forehead. "Give me two minutes and I'll be right back, baby."

He didn't want to let him go, but his protest died in his throat when he disappeared into the bathroom. Wes pushed into a sitting position, watching the door like his life depended on it. The light came on and he heard what he thought had to be Travis' belt buckle hitting the floor. A minute later, the light went off again and Travis emerged, gloriously naked, and smiling.

"You afraid I was going out the window or something, Wes?" Travis shook his head, smile widening. "You do know how far up we are, right?"

"Yeah, twenty-six stories, Travis," he informed him. "But I also know what kind of an impulsive nut you can be."

"Good point." He lifted his hand and showed Wes what he held. "After all, I was impulsive enough to bring these with me, right?

Wes' eyes widened seeing the two things they needed to make tonight perfect: lube and a condom.

"I'd say that was presumptuous rather than impulsive, but I'd really hate to piss you off and change your mind." The words made him cringe, wishing he could take them back as soon as they'd been uttered. _Note to self: work on your flirting technique, Mitchell._

To his surprise, Travis laughed, loud and hearty. He was still chuckling while he straddled Wes' thighs. "If you think I'm leaving you here, like _this_, you're nuts. Never do I never, ever leave my lovers hanging, that'd be rude."

"It'd be more than rude, Trav, it'd be a crime," Wes said, knowing he'd feel like a victim if he didn't get a piece of Travis Marks before the night was out.

"Well, can't have a cop breaking the law now, can we?" Travis clucked his tongue in disgust. Moving so that he was sitting between Wes' legs, Travis hooked one pale foot over his shoulder. He squeezed a bit of cold lube onto his fingers. "If this hurts at any time, you tell me, understand? None of that macho shit tonight."

Wes nodded, unsure if he could hold to that promise. He figured he could bear a little pain if it ended in both of their pleasures. "Okay."

Travis considered him for a moment before pressing his slicked up fingers against Wes' entrance. He watched Wes' terrified face while pushing one finger in slowly, then withdrawing it. Each press of his fingers eased the tension in his boyfriend's body. "You like that, huh?"

"Yes," he strangled out, "don't stop."

Taking that for encouragement, Travis added a second finger to the first. Wes' hips lifted off the mattress, back arching. "Yeah, just like that, baby. Work it for me, show me how you want it."

Wes rode Travis' fingers, pleasuring himself until he thought he'd go crazy from the experience. He wanted more, needed more, and he had to have it now. "Travis," he growled through gritted teeth. "I need you."

"I thought you'd never ask," Travis teased, removing his fingers from his partner's body.

With the ease one can only gain with experience, Travis ripped the foil packet with his teeth and sheathed his cock, never taking his eyes off Wes. That undivided attention stirred the dormant butterflies in his belly, reawakening all the worries he'd had before. Squeezing a dab of lube into the palm of one hand, he coated his covered cock fully, not taking any chances with his lover's pleasure.

"You sure you want this?" Wes' expression was half terror, half expectant desire.

"Yes, god damn you! I've never been more certain of anything." _Please don't make me beg, you jerk_.

It was enough for Travis, Wes decided. Without another word, Marks lifted his hips until they were level with his bobbing cock. The head of his dick rested against Wes' ass, waiting for what, he didn't know. "Marks, if you don't –"

Travis didn't wait. He took Wes by surprise, thrusting into him when he least expected it, assuming he was going to draw it out and torture him for as long as possible, like he always did with well, anything. That first thrust was the only one he had to wait on, however. After the first came, the rest followed quickly on the heels of the others. Steady at first, then more erratic, faster, and rougher.

His boyfriend's coffee-colored hips smacked against his milky ass, forcing embarrassing grunts and the occasional unmanly squeal out of him. The more embarrassing the sounds were, the rougher Travis became. He didn't understand it, but he didn't exactly have the time to analyze it at the moment. Not to mention the lack of focus.

Wes twisted his fists in the sheets below him, grappling for purchase. "God, yes, _harder_" he shouted, shocking himself with his own need.

"Yeah, baby," Travis crowed, pleased with himself, no doubt. "Just how I like it – rough and sweaty and messy."

Travis picked up his pace, pounding his cock into Wes' ass as fast as the laws of physics would allow. Wes met him halfway, lifting his hips enthusiastically every time. Loosening his grip on the sheets, he flung an arm around Travis' neck, digging his nails into his lover's shoulder.

"Please, so close…" The words sounded like sobs to his ears.

"Oh yeah, Wes, come for me, baby," Travis said, rocking his hips more fervently.

A slave to his body, Wes reacted to Travis' words, discharging with a shout, fingers tearing into his lover's silky skin. Unintelligible sounds left his mouth in a rush, begging him, thanking him, cursing him all without coherence.

"That's what I'm talking about," Travis said, the delight evident in his words. His hips moved erratically against his boyfriend's body three, four more times before he thrust forward, stiffening with a roar of release.

Travis' eyes fluttered closed, breathing through his open mouth. Wes focused on his lover, the sweat streaking from his hairline, his nostrils flaring, his chest heaving from the exertion. Cautious, he lifted a finger to Travis' naked chest and trailed a line through the matted, dark hair he found there.

A chuckle escaped Marks. "That tickles, do you mind?" He opened his eyes, collapsing onto the mattress beside Wes. "You okay?"

He nodded, trying to slow his mind long enough to form a sentence. "Never better, thank you."

"Don't thank me," he said, throwing a sweaty arm over him. "It's not like I did this for purely selfless reasons, ya know."

He knew, and he couldn't be bothered to care. What was this all about if it wasn't for the both of them? "Got to admit, Marks, neither did I."

"So damn happy to hear it," he said, lifting his head. "You think we can eat that dessert now?"

The predictability of Travis' comment made Wes laugh. "What would I do if you ever thought about anything other than food and sex?"

"Hey, I think about other things, too, you know."

"Oh? Like what?" He couldn't wait to hear what his partner might come up with.

"Uh, work. I think about work, you know." He pouted adorably, his full lower lip jutting out asking to be bitten.

"Right, but you only think about work while at work," he reminded him.

"Hmm," Travis said, thinking. "You might be right about that. Oh! I do sometimes think about football."

Wes covered his face with the hand Travis wasn't laying on. _Of course he thought about football. How could I have not known that?_


	9. While My Guitar Gently Weeps

_I look at the world and I notice its turning_

_While my guitar gently weeps_

_With every mistake we must surely be learning_

_Still my guitar gently weeps_

Flakes of filo stuck to Travis' bottom lip, drawing Wes' attention. He had a sudden urge to lick the bits of golden goodness from his lover's skin. The sticky sweetness of the baklava called to him, and not what was left on his plate, either.

"Problem, buttercup?" Travis set his plate on Wes' nightstand without looking away from him.

"No," he said, the words sticking in his throat. "You've got…" he brushed his bottom lip with a finger.

Travis' tongue darted out, swiping the remnants of dessert from his lip. "Gone?"

Wes nodded, wishing he'd been quicker to act. "Yeah. All clean." His gaze stayed fixed on Travis' mouth. It was what had convinced him to let his boyfriend bring the baklava into the bedroom in the first place. It was also what persuaded him to allow that same man to eat such a crumbly, sticky thing _in his bed_. Words, kisses, what other weapons did that mouth have at its disposal? And which would Travis use against him next?

Those luscious lips pressed themselves against his neck. Against his better judgment, he leaned into the kiss, snuggling even closer. He wanted the dishes out of the bedroom, washed and drying in the sink, but the lure of his boyfriend's body was stronger than his need for cleanliness… this time. "Travis, the dishes," he said, trying for responsibility.

"Forget them," he murmured, predictably, making Wes wonder why he'd asked. _Because you don't want to leave his side is why_, he reminded himself.

"But Travis…" Without words, Travis told him to unequivocally shut the hell up and stop worrying about the dishes. They'd still be there in the morning – like it or not –but Travis wouldn't be. _Wait_. No. Shoving his hands against his boyfriend's broad chest, he tried to pull away, to get out from under the influence of those enchanting kisses. "Travis, please…"

"Nuh-uh," he murmured, pulling Wes' hands away from his chest and pressing them into the pillows beside his head. "No more talking about the damn dishes."

He surrendered to Marks' ministrations, rejoicing in the feel of his solid body against his own, the heat of his skin burning into his soul. The thought fluttered through his consciousness again, _the dishes will remain but Travis won't…_ Gasping, he broke away. "Travis, please, I need to ask you something."

Approaching a new level of frustration, Travis sighed and drew back. "What's on your mind, Wes?"

"I – I was just thinking and…" his voice faded out, wondering how he was going to suggest Travis stay the night. What if he didn't want to, if it was too much for him? Even worse, what if he laughed? He wasn't sure if he could handle that, not tonight.

"Thinking? About what?" Travis rolled off Wes and onto his side, resting a hand on his lover's chest. "Why does your brain always go into overdrive when everyone else's shuts down?"

Wes glared at him, even though he knew Travis spoke the truth. "Travis, will you – will you stay with me? Tonight?"

Lifting a hand, Travis caressed his face, teasing his lips with his fingertips. "Is that what you really want or is it what you think I want?"

"Honestly? I was afraid it's what you _wouldn't_ want, knowing your track record." A dark finger brushed the edge of his earlobe and a shiver coursed through him. "But is it what I want? Definitely. I want to wake up with you here, beside me, tomorrow."

Travis planted a brief, chaste kiss on Wes' mouth, nothing more than a graze of skin against skin and it was gone. "Then I'll absolutely stay."

Stretching his limbs to their full length, Travis opened his eyes and discovered he was alone. A look to the bathroom showed the door open, light off. So, he wasn't in there. His hand searched the empty half of the bed, finding the sheets still slightly warm. Wherever Wes was, he hadn't been gone long. Travis dropped his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"Well, I suppose I should go find the little nut," he muttered to the empty room. Seeing his jeans folded neatly on the dresser, he grabbed them and slipped them on. The shirt could wait until later, he figured.

"Ah, so you're up," Wes said, not looking up from the coffee pot. "I was getting ready to come get you. Breakfast should be arriving in a few minutes."

There was a moment of silence and then the sweet sound of the coffee machine kicking to life. He so needed some caffeine if he was going to function like a human being today. They'd spent half the night rolling around and the other half talking each other's ears off. A midnight call to room service had brought snacks and another round of lovemaking, and yet, he was starving again. "Breakfast is a beautiful thing."

Wes smiled, leaving the kitchen and coming to face Travis. "That it is." He leaned against his lover's chest, cheek to his bare shoulder.

Travis wrapped both arms snugly around Wes' middle, pulling him as close as he could get without crushing him. "I'm starving, too," he purred ambiguously.

Laughing, Wes pulled out of his embrace just far enough to look up at him. "Well, buddy, food will be here in ten minutes, anything else you might be _hungry_ for will just have to wait."

The arms that held Wes to him loosened a bit. "Aw, baby, you're gonna make me wait?"

"Just this time," he promised. "If food were farther out, maybe not. But somehow I don't see you letting go long enough to let me answer the door either way."

Travis kissed him, long and unhurried, searching every inch of his mouth for something he might have missed the night before. "Mmm, you might have a point there."

A knock at the door drew Wes' attention away from his boyfriend momentarily. "Speaking of food, that must be it."

"Mmm-hmmm," Travis said, burying his face in Wes' neck, nipping at the bit of skin he could find.

"And you need to let me go so I can answer the door," Wes chuckled.

"No," he said, licking behind Wes' ear.

"Yes," he laughed, pushing his boyfriend away, playfully. "I won't go far, I promise."

Dropping his arms, he let Wes answer the door. He stood aside so the room service guy could push the cart into the living area. Tip in hand, he nodded to the two of them and ducked out of the room. Wes was uncovering dishes and sorting them on the cart, taking random bites off the plates as he did so.

"He must see some strange things," Travis commented, wondering if the food courier had put two and two together.

Wes looked up, nodding. "I don't doubt it. Even in a place as nice as this, people do strange things." He lifted a plate and motioned him over. "Here, I didn't know what to get you, so I got you a bit of everything. Eggs, bacon, sausage, toast and fruit. You know, just in case you don't feel like completely clogging your arteries with one meal."

Travis faked a hurt look and took the plate from his boyfriend, carrying it to the small table in his makeshift dining area. Wes followed carrying a tray containing a bowl of oatmeal, two scrambled eggs, and some whole wheat toast. A bowl full of fresh berries sat to one side. "I'll get the coffee, go ahead and dig in."

He found it hard to eat, however, even as his stomach was grumbling for sustenance. They'd come so far in the last several months that he was still a bit in awe of where they were now. Where he'd once been astounded by the idea that his partner was in love with him, he now accepted it. Was even considering the fact that he might just be in love with the little blond jerk too. But now wasn't the right time to tell him that, not yet. That would come in time. Soon, he promised himself. Wes deserved to know soon.

It had taken Travis another six weeks, but he'd finally figured out how to do it. Wes had, of course, said the words first, words being much easier for him. Not to mention he had the tools needed to deal with emotions other than anger and happiness. Travis, on the other hand, not so much. In the end, Wes had been okay with his showing and not telling, even if he knew in his heart that Wes needed to hear it from him as much as he needed to say it.

The trick, one of his foster sisters had told him, was to just be himself. This confused Travis because, if he was going to be himself, then he wouldn't be trying so desperately to tell his boyfriend that he loved him. He'd just shrug and run the other way. This was serious, he reminded himself, and therefore he must make an effort.

Not that he thought Wes was going to dump him if he couldn't find the balls to say the words, but it would definitely make things easier between them if he could. He couldn't expect the boy to wait forever, after all.

Travis did take one part of his foster sister's advice to heart: the impulsive need to act without completely thinking things through might actually work out in his favor in this situation. Don't overthink it and you can't screw it up. That's why he stood in the hotel gift shop buying a single rose and wondering if it was cliché to give another man such a gift.

_Eh, whatever_.

It'd work itself out in the end, somehow. He was banking on that much. Steeling himself for the possibility that Wes did not want visitors tonight – he was a stickler for 'call before you come' even now that they were dating, but a call would ruin the surprise. And let's be honest, surprise was all he had going for him at the moment.

He knocked.

Wes poked his head out of the door, looking confused. "Travis? Don't take this the wrong way but, why are you here? I'm not even dressed."

Travis quirked up the corner of his mouth, leering playfully. "I'd think that by now you'd know I prefer you undressed."

"Annnnd, you're still a pig. Get in here, Marks, before we have a conversation my neighbors – temporary as they might be – don't need or want to hear."

Entering after Wes vacated the doorway, Travis looked around at the disaster Wes' living space had become. Paper covered every flat surface and even a few not-so-flat ones. "Wes, baby, you okay? It's not like you to be so…"

He looked around, considering. "Messy?"

"I was thinking disorganized, but yeah, messy fits, too." He gathered a group of papers together and sat in the nearest chair. "What's going on?"

"Believe it or not, I'm organizing. I had all these old bills and things in a box and I thought I'd go through them, toss what wasn't needed, straighten up…"

"You sound like you're nesting," he said, thinking it sounded just as odd out loud as it did internally. "Please tell me you haven't started baking cookies or knitting blankets."

Wes cocked his head, ready to make a smartass comment he was sure, when his eyes latched onto something. "What's that in your hand?"

Travis looked down, feeling guilty for having forgotten why he'd come over in the first place. In his defense, Wes' unusual messiness had distracted him more than a little. "This? Oh, well, it's a rose."

"I can see that, Marks," he deadpanned. "Why are you carrying it around?"

He pushed to his feet and grinned. "I brought it for you."

"For me?" Wes took it from him, confusion plain on his features. "Why?"

Wes wandered off towards the kitchen and Travis followed. Watching as he pulled out a glass and filled it halfway with water, Travis shrugged. Taking the glass from Wes, he plunked the rose into it and set it on the breakfast bar. "There, that's perfect. You like roses?"

He shrugged. "They're okay. I prefer simpler flowers better, but it's hard to find a bouquet of violets or daisies outside of a florist. I'm going to ask you again: why did you bring it to me?"

The time for stalling was over. Instinctively, he knew it was now or never – not that if he didn't say it now, he'd never have a chance. No, it was more along the lines of if he didn't say it now, he'd lose his nerve and never find it again. "How about because I love you and wanted to give you something nice?"

Travis watched the smartass remark melt off his face and transform into one that was three-quarters confusion and one-quarter hope. Wes stepped closer. "You love me?"

"I do," he confirmed. "I know it's taken me forever, that you said it first so long ago. But, I'm chicken and – mmph."

Wes cut off Travis' rambling apology with his mouth. His lips slid along his lover's, teasing, hinting that he wanted more. Ever obliging, Travis snaked an arm around Wes' middle, pulling him flush to his body. "It took you long enough," he joked, breaking the kiss long enough to bust Travis' balls.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he mocked. "We both know I'm a slacker so give it a rest, okay?"

"No," Wes argued, moving in for another quick peck. "I'm never going to give it a rest. I'm always going to remind you that I said it first and you waited for _months_ to return the favor."

"It wasn't months," he protested. "It was nine weeks."

"Which is two months and one week. Months, Marks. Plural." But the smile on Wes' face belied the tone of the words he was saying. Travis could tell that he could have taken several more _months_ and he'd still have been okay with it. He was thankful that he hadn't, but knowing that he could have gave him hope that Wes would continue to be so patient with his idiocy.

"Okay, you're right, so sue me." He squeezed Wes around the waist and lifted him off the ground, twirling in a slow circle.

"Not going to sue you, Travis," Wes assured him. "There are much more pleasant things to be done when you're around.

And that there was. Shockingly enough, not all of them fell into the category of 'things to do in the bedroom' either. Wes had continued to prove to him that they had more in common that their jobs and an explosive sexual chemistry. It was a revelation in itself that he had any kind of worth outside the office and bedroom. But that was the beauty of a man like Wes. He might not always like what Travis did or had to say, but he always respected and loved him, even when he was being stupid. Scratch that: _especially _when he was being stupid.

_One Year Later_

Wes stood, hands on hips, watching Travis chase the puppy through the park, not sure who should be on a leash more – his husband or his furry, four-legged son. His money was on Travis at the moment as the ten week old German shepherd puppy was leagues ahead of Marks in the maturity department. Lifting his fingers to his mouth, Wes whistled, once, sharply, and the puppy came running. Travis, on the other hand, stayed where he was, looking in Wes' direction.

"What," he called across the grassy area delineated for dogs and their owners. "We going home already?"

Repressing a smile, he shook his head. "No, not yet, Travis. It appears Jax isn't quite done playing."

Travis looked at the fuzzy white puppy racing circles around Wes' legs and grinned. "Yeah, he's still pretty excited, isn't he?"

Lifting the eager, floppy eared puppy into his arms, Wes made his way over to where Travis was standing, sunlight streaming down through the trees. "He certainly is, I think he gets that from you."

It was clear from the start that getting a puppy was smarter than taking on the kid Travis had wanted to foster. True to form, they couldn't agree on anything – from what kind of dog to adopt to the colorings and the sex – it was an uphill battle on every front. He'd eventually given in and let Travis have his way, figuring it'd be the easiest option. When Travis had settled on the smallest puppy of the bunch – that elusive white German shepherd he'd always wanted – Wes had been floored. Maybe Marks was starting to listen after all?

The kids would come later, he figured. They were both young enough that there was time in three or four years to take a wayward youth or two into their lives. Travis felt he owed it to those kids out there, the ones that reminded him so much of himself at that age, and Wes took no issue with that. In the meantime, a puppy was more than either of them could handle.

Sometimes he wished they could have one of their own – a kid that was part Mitchell and part Marks – but that wasn't possible, not in this century. Maybe in the next, however. It made him laugh to think what a kid of theirs would be like – smart but mouthy, handsome but awkward. The kid would definitely be a charmer, that much he knew for certain.

Until then, they had Jax.

"What you say we play fetch with Jax long enough to wear him out and then we swing by Sonic on the way home?"

Burgers. It was always burgers and fries with this boy. But the girls at Sonic loved Jax and always gave him an extra biscuit. "Okay, Travis. But tomorrow night, we eat real food, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed, putting the puppy into the grass before throwing his tennis ball into the park. "Go get it boy!" With a yip, Jax ran off after the ball, returning with everything _but _his ball, including a raggedy doll belonging to someone's four-year-old daughter who chased the dog all the way back to his owners.

"We should have named him Travis Junior with the way women keep chasing him back over here," Wes observed, trying not to smile at the frown forming on his husband's face.

"Hey now, that's not fair," he whined. "I gave up women, remember? For _you_ even."

"And need I remind you how you even figured out that I was in love with you?" Wes chucked the stick Jax had retrieved this last time, hoping he might return with his ball this go round.

"Oh right," Travis grinned, rubbing his chin with his fingers. "You got jealous because I was flirting with someone who wasn't you."

Wes gave him a shove. "That's right, you jerk, you were flirting with the enemy. But I set you to rights, didn't I?"

"Well, I don't know about that, but you sure gave me something to think about, didn't you?"

Biting his lower lip to keep the sarcasm at bay, Wes instructed Travis to go retrieve the dog that had found his ball and taken off with it. "Make yourself useful for a change," he teased.

Travis ran off in search of the puppy, collapsing into the grass and rolling onto his back when he found him. It was true, he had been jealous, but only because he had wanted something he didn't think he could ever have. But now? Now he had it all – everything he had hoped for and more. He had a home – a real home, too, and not just a room in a fancy hotel – a husband, and now, even a dog. Sometimes, on Travis' less mature days, he even had a child to care for. But that was a moot point because he loved that jerk, no matter how childish or insane he might be. Best of all, Travis loved him too. Life was perfect.


End file.
